Ere the New Day Breaks
by GusGus Gamgee
Summary: The War is over - Hogwarts gives a second chance at NEWT year for those who'll take it. Follow Draco and Hermione as they ready themselves for the new world outside of school. Won't be Dramione...Canon compliant thru DH  not epilogue
1. Chapter 1

Draco glared angrily at the darkening sky outside his window. The silver and green curtains framed the tall thunderheads hurrying towards the Manor. But Draco didn't care about the storm – he hoped the rhythm of the rain falling would soothe him to sleep. It was the few rays of the sunset peeking through behind the clouds that had brought daggers shooting from his steely eyes.

He heard the clock in the hallway chime seven. Shifting his scowl to his leg, Draco reached over to the side of the armchair and grasped his cane. Putting his book on the side table, he heaved himself to his feet and limped over to the closet. Throwing open the doors, he grabbed the first shirt he saw and began to button it over the tee shirt he was wearing. Just as he had finished, he heard the telltale crack of a house elf appearing.

"Master Draco," squeaked the elf, "dinner will be served in five minutes. Lady Cissy is already in the dining room."

"Thank you, Hobin," Draco replied, trying to refrain from snapping at the creature who had nothing to do with his current, stressed frame of mind. "Tell her I will be down immediately."

The elf bowed and disappeared with another crack. Draco sighed and checked his hair to ensure it was presentable for dinner with his mother, trying to ignore the dark circles under his eyes and the haggardness that he couldn't seem to rid himself of. Then he began the—for him, at least—grueling walk to the dining room. Not that he would ever show it; he was a Malfoy, after all.

-O-O-O-O-

The door clicked open as Draco returned to his bedroom. He flicked the lights on with his wand, and collapsed onto the chair he had been sitting in before dinner. He picked up his book again, and tried to immerse himself in the theories of 16th century potions masters. What had earlier that day been an engrossing article on the strengthening of healing potions was now merely an excuse to avoid facing the night again. After reading the same paragraph three times without comprehending it at all, Draco was forced to admit that he should at least try to get to sleep to keep his exhaustion from overwhelming him.

Sliding into bed, Draco massaged his knee, debating whether or not to use the potion the Healers had prescribed for his leg pain. He decided that the pain was bearable, and would save the potion for a night when he needed it more. Turning off the lights, he gripped the sheets tightly as the darkness descended on him. The rain beat a rhythmic tattoo against the roof, and despite his fears of the night to come, Draco found himself losing his battle to sleep.

_His Aunt Bellatrix loomed over him, leering at him as she dragged him through the Manor. He knew where they were going – the main hall where Voldemort was holding court. She threw him down before the pale feet of his dark Lord and master, and slyly sashayed over to the deathly pale wizard seated on the throne-like chair, lightly running her fingers up his arm to gain his attention. _

_ "My Lord," she murmured, "I brought him as you asked." Voldemort turned his head to look at the prone figure before him. _

_ "Draco, my dear boy." The voice was high, and cold – so cold. Draco shuddered. "It seems you were unable to do what I asked. And I really didn't ask for that much, you know." Draco was shaking. "If my dear Severus hadn't been there, the whole operation would have failed. The operation, might I remind you, that I trusted _you_ with, Draco." Long, pale fingers stroked a long, pale wand. "It seems you have a lesson to learn, boy. I would hate for you to have gone through all that trouble without _learning_ something."_

_ He knew what was coming – couldn't do anything about it. Couldn't stop it from happening. Could only brace himself and try not to disgrace the Malfoy name by screaming. _

_ "Crucio." _

Draco sat up in bed, gasping for breath and covered with a layer of sweat. He had taught himself not to scream at the nightmares, but he couldn't stop himself from having them. He kicked off his sheets and sat on the edge of his bed, pressing his face into his hands. He remembered what happened after. The pain had gone on and on, until finally Voldemort released him. Then, before his father had time to react, Voldemort had made Lucius use the same curse on his own son, as punishment for his failure to kill Dumbledore. He remembered the look of regret in his father's eyes as he pointed his wand at his own flesh and blood, before carefully composing himself and focusing his eyes on a point just above his son's sweat-soaked blond hair.

The clock chimed four. Draco knew from past experience that it would be useless to try and go back to sleep, so he pulled on some clothes for the day and made his way downstairs. He didn't bother to turn any of the lights on. The house elves always kept some candles burning through the night, but Draco knew the Manor like the back of his hand and could easily navigate the many hallways. He headed towards one of the lesser-used parts of the Manor, not that any parts besides the kitchen and living quarters were frequently used.

Finding the door he was looking for, Draco slipped inside. He had come through one of the side doors into the ballroom. He wasn't a dancer – he could barely walk now – so he made his way directly towards the far corner where one of his most prized possessions sat. Lighting the room with a flick of his wand, Draco limped towards the grand piano. Settling onto the bench, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. With his eyes still closed, he placed his fingers on the ivory keys and began to play. It was a melancholy tune, punctuated at times with the anger and frustration he was feeling, and at other times with fear. Draco played until he felt himself begin to completely calm down. The nightmare earlier that morning, while still very real, felt distant. He did this every morning – it was the only way he could face the day knowing that night was going to come again.

The sun was well above the horizon when Draco joined his mother for breakfast. This was much less formal then their dinners together every night. It was by unspoken agreement that they met in the kitchen and went through the morning rituals of cracking eggs and frying bacon. Sitting at the counter across from his mother, Draco looked her over carefully. There were new lines around her eyes and mouth, and she too looked tired and worn. She had not dealt well with the Ministry's lack of organization with the Death Eater trials. Her husband of twenty-some-odd years was still waiting in Azkaban until the Ministry could sort through the massive list of captured Death Eaters and presumed You-Know-Who followers in order to organize trials for all of them. Draco himself had spent a month in Azkaban before his trial and subsequent clearing of charges, as the Ministry had made an effort to try and sort out the youngest first, to spare them as much as possible from the terrors of the prison, and of the dementors that had returned to serve there.

Not that it had helped much. Draco had recurring nightmares of the chill, dark cells and the constant emotional drain from the dementors. Giving himself a shake, he forced himself to focus on the warm August air flowing through the kitchen windows and the sun shining on the small garden that Narcissa had grown and tended all summer. She, having no mark on her left forearm, had avoided prison and had channeled her worry and frustration for her husband and son into making the delicate plants grow.

"So, Mother. Any plans for today?" The two of them went through the same ritual everyday – pretending that things were normal and that Lucius was merely on a business trip, or perhaps sleeping in.

"Oh, well… I thought I would work in the garden a little bit. I saw some weeds coming up yesterday near the hydrangea, so I will have to take care of that. And Mrs. Greengrass was going to Diagon Alley to purchase a new set of dress robes, so I told her I would come with her." Narcissa took a sip of tea. "It does make it so much easier to decide on what to buy when one has a second opinion. What about you, darling?"

"Well, I'm not quite sure. I was thinking – " Draco was interrupted by the sound of wing beats. An owl fluttered through the open window and stuck its leg out towards Draco. With an uncertain look towards his mother, whose puzzled face mirrored his own, Draco detached the letter and absentmindedly gave the owl some treats while staring at the Hogwarts crest sealing the envelope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **I had planned on putting a chapter a week up, but I finished this and couldn't wait a week to put it up! Enjoy!

Hermione opened her eyes in the morning light and stretched. It took her a minute to remember that she was at the Burrow, having arrived the day before. She looked over and grinned at the redheaded girl curled up next to her. She and Ginny had stayed up late into the night giggling and chatting about all the things that Ginny didn't often get a chance to talk about, what with being the only girl in a family of boys. They had finally fallen asleep on Ginny's bed, as the cot set up for Hermione was still covered with her clothes – which she had neglected to put away, being so excited to see the Weasleys – and the magazines that they had poured over last night.

Ginny stirred and mumbled in her sleep before rolling over with a small grunt. Hermione slipped off the bed and changed into a new pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Creeping downstairs, and wincing whenever a floorboard creaked, Hermione made it to the kitchen, where she found Molly Weasley preparing breakfast for her large family. Arthur Weasley was sitting at the table, drinking tea and reading the Daily Prophet, and Hermione was surprised she had awoken early enough to catch him before he went to work.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," she said. "Is there anything I can do to help with breakfast?"

Arthur murmured a greeting, while Molly continued to bustle around the kitchen. "Oh, nothing much dearie. If you could just set the table, that would be wonderful. It would be nice if my children actually woke up, but what can you do?"

Just as she had finished speaking, one of the many children she spoke of stumbled into the kitchen. It was Charlie, the second eldest. He had yet to go back to Romania, choosing instead to help rebuild his shattered family after the battle at Hogwarts and the loss of Fred.

"'Morning Mum, Dad. Oh, hullo Hermione." Charlie sat at the table next to his father and pulled the large plate of toast towards him. After he buttered a piece, Molly placed some eggs and bacon on the top of it. "Dad, when do you want to leave?" he asked between bites.

"You eat what you want, and I will finish my tea. Then we can set off." Seeing Hermione's puzzled look, Arthur explained, "Charlie is coming with me to the Ministry today. He's going to speak to the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures about a possible job opening."

Charlie joined the conversation. "I'm thinking of staying here in England for a year or so – just to see how it goes. I love Romania, but I've been there since I left Hogwarts. Time to see if I'm ready to settle down or not." He chuckled. "Mum's been waiting for this to happen since I left eight years ago."

"Yes, well. It's hard for a mother to have her children leave." Molly absentmindedly reached over to straighten Charlie's tie and fix his hair. He flashed a grin towards Hermione and rolled his eyes. Arthur, who had been reading his paper, shook it out and folded it up, leaving it on the table.

"We should probably head out, Charlie," he said, standing up. Going over, he gave his wife a peck and headed over to the fireplace. "Molly, I should be home around 6:30. Kingsley said he wanted to see me about something this afternoon, but hopefully it will be quick."

"Good luck, Charlie!" Hermione said, waving to him and Arthur as they disappeared in a rush of emerald flames.

Ginny came into the kitchen shortly after, and sat down with Hermione to enjoy some scrambled eggs and toast. Molly sat down with them, and they enjoyed the peaceful August morning together until Harry, Ron and George made their way downstairs. George seemed to be holding up despite the death of his twin and best friend, Fred. Harry, Hermione and the rest of the Weasley clan had tried their best to distract both him and themselves, to keep from dwelling on the untimely death of the bright young man. Still, George had changed. His jokes came less often, and his pranks were quieter. All in all, the closeness of death had caused him to mature.

Just as they had all settled in and begun the usual discussion about the upcoming British league Quidditch tournament, four owls swooped through the window. Ron – who was so focused on trying to convince Harry, yet again, that the Chudley Cannons did indeed have a chance at winning – didn't even notice the owls until one them stole the piece of toast he was waving around wildly.

"They're all from Hogwarts," remarked Harry. "I wonder what about. I mean, obviously Ginny is going back next year, but the ones for us?"

"I suppose we should open them, then," replied Hermione, hastily untying the envelope from the owl's leg and giving it a piece of toast as a treat. She opened the letter to see what it said, and quickly skimmed it over.

_Dear Ms. Granger, _

_ I hope you are finding the summer rejuvenating and replenishing. We are contacting those students in your year to offer a very unique opportunity. Due to the disruptive nature of the past year, Hogwarts School will be providing a second chance at seventh year for those students who wish to accept. Returning students will have a much more lenient schedule and, seeing as you will be of age, many more freedoms than the students who are following the regular curriculum. _

_ We await your apply via owl. If you accept this offer to come back to Hogwarts, please reply by August the 15__th__ in order to ensure accommodations. Also, returning 'eighth-years' should arrive at Hogwarts no later than September the 1__st__. On the 30__th__, 31__st__ and 1__st__, we will be opening Hogwarts for Apparation to ensure that all can arrive on time. It is also possible to Floo to my office on these dates in order to get to Hogwarts. _

_ I sincerely hope that you will return to Hogwarts to complete your education. The wizarding world needs all the trained and open-minded witches and wizards to restore itself to its former glory, and we hope to enable you to do just that. Enclosed is also a list of recommended classes based on your previous schedule and O.., as well as an accompanying list of materials based on those classes. _

_ With regards, _

_ Minerva McGonagall _

_ Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

Finished with her letter, Hermione looked up. Ginny was reading over Harry's shoulder, while Ron was staring at the piece of parchment with a very peculiar look on his face. Handing her letter to Mrs. Weasley for her and George to read, Hermione waited for the others to finish before she spoke.

"Well? What do you think?" she demanded to know.

"I… I really don't know," replied Ron. "I mean, I had kinda wanted to start Auror training, and Kinsley had promised Harry and me spots in the training program."

"But, Ron, those spots will still be there next year," said Harry. "I definitely want to go back. Hogwarts is like a second home to me, and I think it's important to learn everything we can from it."

"You're beginning to sound like Hermione," Ron muttered. "But you know what? I do want to go back. As important as what we were doing last year was, I did want to have seventh year. And this is our chance." He was bombarded on both sides by hugs as both Ginny and Hermione threw themselves at him, grinning furiously. Mrs. Weasley smiled and put her arm around George's waist as she watched the four young people chatter away about the upcoming year.

"It looks like we'll need to take a trip to Diagon Alley," she said to George. He smiled down at her.

"I'm sure you're looking forward to that, Mum." He helped to fetch parchment and quills so that acceptance letters could be hastily scribbled down and sent off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** So, I forgot to put this up on the other two chapters, but I do not own any of the characters or anything. It is all from the extraordinary mind of one JK Rowling. Just to clear that up.

Also, thanks to TheFlyingCat for their review – much appreciated! And now…

…

Getting to Diagon Alley proved to be quite simple. Two days after receiving the Hogwarts letters, Molly, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Harry Flooed to the fireplace in George's shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. George, who owned the three flats above the shop, had gone home the day before in order to check up on things in the shop. Business was booming, and while George had many shop assistants and three general managers, he liked to keep an eye on things. The six of them had tea in the flat that George himself lived in. He rented out the other two at extraordinarily low rates for those who he decided needed the housing the most. Hermione had never met the other inhabitants, but, knowing George, she assumed that they were quite colorful and eccentric enough to have caught his attention.

After tea, George bid them good-bye and promised Molly that he would come for dinner soon. After making sure that the four of them knew where they were going and what they needed, Molly left Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny and bustled off to run some errands of her own. After wandering through the apothecary to gather potions supplies, and the quill shop, where Hermione purchased an absolutely beautiful peacock feather quill with delicate detailing, Harry and Ginny declared they were going to grab a bite to eat. Promising to meet in front of Flourish and Botts in an hour and a half, Hermione and Ron wandered through Diagon Alley together. They had not spent this much time alone in a very long time, and Hermione did not want to waste a second. They stopped by Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, which surprisingly sold sandwiches as well, and sat outside to enjoy their lunch. They finished holding hands and sharing a chocolate ice cream sprinkled with nuts.

"This is nice," Ron breathed into her hair. Hermione murmured in agreement, and shifted her head so that it was more comfortable on his shoulder. They sat like this for a while, sharing in the moment of simply being together and enjoying each other's company. Too quickly, they felt, it was time to meet Harry and Ginny in front of the bookstore. Hand in hand, they strolled down the street and towards the shop, where they saw familiar red and black heads plastered together.

"Oi, mate," Ron said, without any heat, "you might want to think of where and what you are doing." Harry and Ginny sprung apart, blushing slightly. There was a moment of awkwardness before Harry chuckled and jerked his head in the direction of the bookshop.

"Shall we?" he asked, with a cheeky grin towards Ginny, who snorted and dug her elbow into his ribs before dragging him in. Ron shook his head, muttering, before following the two of them inside.

Once inside, Hermione breathed the familiar scent of leather and parchment. Within ten minutes, she had found all her schoolbooks and was happily rummaging through the shelves for an interesting read. While Ron, Ginny and Harry looked through the new biography on Gwenog Jones, Hermione settled down on the window seat of the show with a series of essays on 16th century potions. It was fascinating how some of the ideas they theorized were present in modern potion making. Impatiently pushing aside a strand of hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, Hermione glanced out the window and froze.

Coming down the street was an all too familiar blond head. Actually, two familiar blond heads. Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were strolling down Diagon Alley, arm in arm. Hermione felt a rush of fear, before dismissing it and realizing the two of them couldn't hurt her, not here at least. Pausing for a moment, she looked the two over. Narcissa looked drawn and work. While dressed as impeccably as ever, there was something about her that seemed fragile and very breakable. Draco seemed to be trying to shield her as much as he could from the angry glares the shoppers were giving them. Not that he looked any better than his mother.

Hermione gave a small gasp as she looked him over. He looked even worse than he had in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Draco was a shadow of his former self. His robes hung around him loosely, and his cheekbones were especially prominent. The shadowy circles under his eyes were evidence of sleepless nights, and his hair looked as though he was constantly running his hand through it. But most of all, Hermione's eyes were drawn to the cane he held in his hand. There was no pretending it was merely a walking stick for show. Not with the way he gripped it with white-knuckled hands and leaned on it whenever he took a limping step forward.

"What does that slimy git think he's doing here?" Ron's voice came from over Hermione's shoulder. Startled, she glanced up. Harry, Ginny and Ron had all come over to see what she was looking at. Harry and Ginny just looked shocked.

"Merlin," Ginny breathed. "He looks _awful_. I wonder what happened." Harry was still staring at the Malfoys with shock in his eyes.

Just then, an absolutely beautiful witch and a familiar looking boy greeted the Malfoys. The witch hugged both of them, while the two boys shared a handshake and a hug.

"That boy was in the Slug Club," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Blaise Zabini. He's our year in Slytherin, but I didn't know he and Malfoy were friends."

"Huh," was all Ron said before going up to the counter to pay for his books. Hermione followed, grabbing the collection of essays as she walked past the window. She gave one last glance at the four people in the street before heading to the back of the shop as well.

-O-O-O-O-

Draco had never been gladder to see Blaise Zabini in his life. They had sent each other letters over the summer, but Draco was still wary of owl mail, knowing how easily it could be intercepted. Not that he was saying anything remotely incriminating, but old habits die hard. When his mother had said they needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy supplies, he had not looked forward to it. The few times they had gone out together, they had been met with angry stares from passerby. It wasn't so much Narcissa as Draco who attracted the unwanted attention.

It was completely by chance that they had run into Blaise and his mother. The two women left the boys to do their own shopping while they went out to lunch. So now it was Draco and Blaise who entered the apothecary to get supplies for potions the next year. Draco had not been surprised when Blaise said he was going back to school. Blaise and his mother had remained conspicuously neutral during the war, and had no problem merging back into normal society, mainly because they had never left it. Blaise had appeared unsurprised that Draco was headed back, but he had always been good at concealing what he was thinking. Well, so was Draco, but he didn't want to betray Blaise's trust by reading too much into him.

"You been sleeping alright, mate?" Blaise asked as they wandered among the shelves. Draco sifted through some dried dung beetles before responding.

"Not really, but I'll be fine." Feeling a need to lighten the mood, he grinned and drawled, "Why? Do you miss my rugged charms and good looks from before? We don't all have the time for beauty sleep like you do, Zabini." Blaise chuckled and faked a cuff at Draco's head. Then he sobered.

"But seriously, Draco. You ever need anything, let me know, yeah?"

"Thanks Blaise." Draco was oddly touched by the concern. "Any way, what have you been up to this summer besides beauty sleeping?" While he and Blaise talked, Draco realized he was glad Blaise was coming back to school too. At least there would be one person who didn't want him dead or back in Azkaban.


	4. Chapter 4

**NOTE: **I do not own any characters etc. – it is all J.K. Rowling BAMFness. Also, thanks for the reviews! And now…

-O-O-O-O-

Hermione put the last few things in her trunk while listening to the chaos erupting throughout the rest of the Weasley household. Arthur had decided to go to the office late today in order to help with getting Harry, Ron and Hermione to Hogwarts. The change in transportation made things both easier and harder. With the possibility of too many people heading through the Floo network and clogging it up, Professor McGonagall had organized a schedule with specific times for each student. Ron's Floo time was in five minutes, and Molly was worried that he wouldn't make it. Hermione didn't have to leave for another half-hour, but once she closed her trunk, she brought it downstairs just to provide Molly with some peace of mind. In the living room, Hermione found Ginny playing with Crookshanks. The half-kneazle was in a magical cage so that it would be easier to Floo with him. At the moment it was large enough for him to chase the string that Ginny was waving. Hermione silently thanked the younger girl for distracting Crookshanks so that he wouldn't fuss.

The good-bye process had already begun in the kitchen. Harry had left ten minutes before, and so had missed the brunt of Molly's farewell frenzy. Not that he hadn't been absolutely smothered in hugs and last minute sandwiches.

"Mum," Ron sighed in exasperation. "I think it's time for me to go." Despite his apparent annoyance, he leaned down to give her one last hug and kiss. Arthur gave him a clap on the back, and then Ron waved to Hermione and Ginny, who was peeking around the door. "See you soon!" he called, and then he was gone in a flash of emerald light. Molly dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief her husband had conjured for her. Arthur wrapped his arm around shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. It seemed to work – she relaxed and put the handkerchief away.

"I'm sorry about this, Hermione," Molly apologized. "It's just so hard knowing his is the last year that I will know what's going on in their lives. All the boys come back to visit, but it's just not the same…"

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, crossing the room to hug the woman who was almost like a second mother to her. Molly smiled and patted her cheek. The two of them sat at the table with Ginny while Molly recounted stories from her own seventh year. Too soon, it felt, it was time for Hermione to leave. She hugged Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and then Ginny.

"I'll see you soon, I promise!" she called as she threw Floo powder on the fire. Shouting for Professor McGonagall's office, she let herself be spun away in the emerald flames.

-O-O-O-O-

Sinking into one of the familiar leather armchairs, Draco heaved a sigh of relief. Leaning his cane on the arm of the chair, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. He was back at Hogwarts, and it felt good. He had felt guilty about leaving his mother alone in the manor, but then she announced she was going to Italy for several weeks with Mrs. Nott. The two women had decided to go on a trip instead of sitting at home and missing their sons. Draco was pleased that his mother was getting out of the house. Hopefully the sun and change of scenery would be good for her.

Draco looked at his watch. He had Flooed to Hogwarts around four. He knew he was one of the last arrivals, but he was thankful to McGonagall for sparing him two days of stares and whispers. Well, two _more_ days – he knew he was going to get the stares and whispers no matter what. McGonagall had actually been nice to him. True, she had stayed stern and unsmiling throughout their meeting when he had stumbled out of the fireplace, but she seemed unbiased. She had even gone so far as to give him a small smile and make him promise to see her if he encountered any trouble. He had thanked her, and come down to the Slytherin common room immediately.

Blaise entered the common room from the dorms where he had been writing a letter to his aunt. He nodded towards Draco.

"It's five thirty. We should probably head over to the Great Hall." Draco nodded in reply and pushed himself to his feet. Blaise looked at him in concern, but decided against offering help until Draco asked for it. There was supposed to be a meeting for all the returning eighth-years, which was probably why they were at Hogwarts three days early.

"So," Blaise said as they made their way through the hallways, "what are you going to do about your arm?" Draco knew what Blaise was referring to – his Dark Mark. Had it been anyone else, he would have hexed them, but he knew Blaise was genuinely concerned. He hadn't missed the look Blaise had given him in the common room when he was getting out of the chair.

"Wear long sleeves," he said shortly. A few seconds later, he added, "and a Concealment Charm." He had spent the past week getting himself in the habit of reapplying it each morning, just so he wouldn't forget and terrify some poor first year – or seventh year, for that matter. Blaise nodded in approval.

When they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, Draco paused. The students barely filled half of one of the long dining tables, yet he knew nearly all of them had been in that secret defense group from fifth year. Scanning the table, he saw Potter and his two sidekicks, Longbottom, the Bones girl and a good number of other Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, who, for the most part, were mingling together. Taking a deep breath, he made his way towards the conspicuously small group of people seated away from everyone else, at the Slytherin table. Trying to ignore the stares and whispers, he kept his face expressionless. He was a master at this, having it drilled into him by Lucius. _Malfoys are strong. They do not know pain or fear. Only power._ He focused on each step, finally settling near the head of the table with Blaise on his right and Daphne Greengrass on his left. He glanced around the group, realizing they were all outcasts together. There was Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne. Thank Merlin the girls had each other. There were so few of them.

Just as he was catching up with the other Slytherins, the Headmistress walked in. He hadn't noticed – and mentally kicked himself for it – but several faculty members had also come in and were standing at the edges of the room. Professor McGonagall stood in front and fixed her sharp gaze on the students.

"Welcome back," she began. "I hope you all enjoyed your summers. I am glad you have all chosen to come back. And thank you for coming early – I know it may not have been as convenient as the train to get here through other means. As you know, these are very special circumstances. The rest of the faculty and I have thought long and hard of what to do with you. You are all of age and have been through too much to be treated like children anymore. So, I will address the main issues I think will concern you next year.

"You will remain part of the House you were sorted into. While you may still gain and lose points, this is only at the discretion of the faculty members, not the prefects or the Head Boy and Girl. You all have your schedules and will attend classes with the rest of the student body. There are also some advanced classes that have been created especially for you." Here she stopped to take breath before continuing.

"There have been some changes with the dormitory situation. Because your old dormitories were designed to only hold seven years of students, they are too small to accommodate you. Therefore, there are new dorms for you, which I will show you momentarily, that will fit all of you who have chosen to return. It may be difficult for some of you, but we decided to trust that you are mature and responsible enough to handle this." She shot a glare towards the tables to quell the whispers that had sprung up. Draco was surprised, and quirked an eyebrow at Blaise to see what he thought. Blaise made a face, but then shrugged his shoulders. Draco nodded in agreement. McGonagall opened her mouth to speak once more.

"Also, I will take this time to introduce some faculty changes. Professor Flitwick has graciously agreed to act as the Deputy Headmaster." Here there was a round of applause. "Also, Professor Slughorn has graciously agreed to remain as Head of Slytherin and potions master." Most of the applause this time was from the remaining Slytherins. "We also welcome a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Kemp. He graduated from Gryffindor several years ago and has worked closely with the Auror department. He and I will be sharing duties as Head of Gryffindor until he is more settled in." A more enthusiastic round of applause.

The new professor was young – he looked to be about thirty. With brown hair and gold-brown eyes, Draco supposed the ladies would find him attractive. From the way Pansy was studying him, he would bet on mild flirtation in class but nothing more than that. Thank Merlin Pansy had only been twelve when Lockhart was teaching.

McGonagall was now heading towards the door to lead them to their new dorm. Thankfully, they only had to go up one staircase, and then follow several corridors. Draco and Blaise had fallen behind slightly – Draco had trouble with stairs and Blaise was walking at his pace to keep him company. When they finally caught up, Draco caught Potter and Granger staring at him. He deliberately met each of their gazes and then focused on Professor McGonagall, gratified to see Granger blush and both of them look away in embarrassment. They had stopped beside a portrait of the four founders sitting at a table. They appeared to be having a meeting of sorts, and on one of the chairs hung a hat, which he recognized as none other than the Sorting Hat. The founders waved excitedly when they saw the group.

"For right now, the password is 'wrackspurt'," Professor McGonagall informed them. "However, as I'm sure some of you are aware, some common rooms can be accessed through other means. The founders may give you riddles or questions of character as well." The portrait opened, and they followed the Headmistress inside.


	5. Chapter 5

**NOTE: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, etc. It is all JK Rowling.

Also, thanks for the reviews!

…

Hermione stared up at the curtains of her four-poster bed. It just felt so weird to not be in Gryffindor tower. Now there were twelve girls sharing the same dorm, and two of them were Slytherins. She had thought herself above prejudice, but knowing that one of them was Pansy Parkinson did _not_ make her more willing to be friendly. The other Slytherin had seemed nice enough, if a little aloof. Hermione knew very little about Daphne Greengrass except that she had a younger sister going into sixth year.

The common room had been great. The Hogwarts crest was hung over the fireplace, and there were four banners with each of the House's symbols on them. It had been neutrally decorated with brown leather chairs and sofas, as well as a smattering of each House color. The boys' dorms had led off to the right, the girls' to the left, and there were plenty of tables with comfy chairs to work at. Hermione knew she would eventually get used to it, but she missed her old space.

Hermione, Ron and Harry had all arrived on the last day of August. Several of their classmates were already there, and they enjoyed passing the time together. It felt odd to be in the castle while it was so empty, but she had ended up enjoying it. The Slytherins kept to themselves, while the other three Houses mingled freely. Hermione supposed it must have been hard to deal with all the animosity directed towards their House. No wonder so few of them had returned. They all had a slightly wary air about them, as if expecting to be attacked any minute. Even Malfoy, who was the master of the careless smirk, seemed to be giving everyone wide berth. She thought about that moment when he had come into the Great Hall. His face was the exact same, carefully blank face she had seen in Malfoy Manor when he had been so reluctant to identify Harry. Only his white-knuckled grip on his cane had given any indication that he was nervous.

She wondered how it was going in the boys' dorm. While Harry seemed willing to make peace with the Slytherins, Ron felt he had a personal vendetta to settle. She just hoped he didn't do anything stupid. Hermione blushed again when she remembered Malfoy catching her staring. She had only been wondering where he was when he came around the corner with Zabini. The old amused smirk had come back on his face when he looked at her. Sighing, she flipped onto her back and closed her eyes.

-O-O-O-O-

Hermione groaned and rolled onto her stomach. She looked at the clock she kept on her bedside table. It was five thirty in the morning. She groaned again, wondering if it was worth it to get up. After closing her eyes and not feeling the slightest inclination to go back to sleep, Hermione threw back the covers and got out of bed. It was no wonder she was getting up so early, though. Everyone had gone to bed early the night before, perhaps to avoid the awkwardness of living with totally new people. Grabbing some clothes to wear for the day, Hermione crept to the bathroom.

Once changed, Hermione crept down the stairs to the common room, making sure to keep quiet. It was barely six – too early for food to be out in the Great Hall, and she didn't feel like going to the kitchens. The common room had been tidied by the house elves during the night. Sitting on one of the couches, Hermione noticed the pillows on the other couch were askew, though she didn't see anyone else in the room. Obviously someone had been in the common room before she came down. But who? Hermione shrugged her shoulders and settled deeper into the couch. She scratched her arm and tapped her toe. What was she going to do until breakfast?

Glancing around, she saw a book on one of the tables. Looking for anything to cure her boredom, she walked over to look at it. It was the collection of potions essays she had gotten from Flourish and Blotts. Hermione frowned slightly. She didn't remember bringing it downstairs the night before, though it was possible. Oh well – at least it gave her something to do. She opened it up to the essay she had been reading – it was odd, but she could have sworn she'd marked her page. She soon, however, was engrossed in the book and dismissed the oddities.

Hermione's head snapped up when she heard the portrait entrance being opened. Malfoy stepped through, carrying a plate of food. Balancing both it and his cane, he closed the door and limped into the common room. Ignoring her, he went to the table where she had found her book and put his plate down. Then he frowned, looking around. She decided to break the silence – at least try to be civil with him.

"'Morning, Malfoy," she said from her seat by the fire. He jumped a little and whirled around, hand reaching into his pocket. When he saw it was her, he relaxed a little, but still kept his hand near his wand.

"Oh, it's just you, Granger." His eyes moved from her face down to the book she was holding. The frown on his face deepened when he saw it, but his voice was polite enough when he said, "May I ask what you are doing with my book?"

"This is your book?" Hermione replied incredulously.

"Yes, it's my book. Why else would it have my name on it?" he snapped back. Hermione flipped open the front cover, and sure enough, there it was. Penned in neat, elegant script. _Draco A. Malfoy_.

"I'm sorry. I thought it was mine. I have a copy of this book too – it's fascinating." Draco just grunted in reply and sat down to eat his breakfast. He was faced away from her, but Hermione could sill see the way his clothes hung on him. Surprisingly, he wasn't wearing robes – just jeans and a long sleeved tee. She looked his arm – well, the back of it – and realized what he was covering up. She remembered what he had done to her over the years. Yet even with the memories, she couldn't bring herself to totally hat him like she used to. It just took too much energy to hate, and both of them were too worn down.

Malfoy pushed his chair away from the table. There wasn't much food missing from the previously full plate, but he pushed it away and made his way out of the common room. Hermione sat, somewhat confused. She was still holding his copy of the potions essays. Since he hadn't asked for it back, she decided to read it until breakfast and then put it back where he could find it. Turning the page, she noticed neat notes in some of the margins. She read them as she went through the book. Some – actually, all – were insightful and she wondered why she hadn't thought of some of them. She knew Malfoy was good at potions – he did just as well as she did – but he could have just been good at following directions. But this showed not just innovation but brilliance. She grinned to herself – never had she thought a day would come when she would actually compliment Malfoy. Still, she was so fascinated by his notes that she quite forgot to put the book back on the table.

-O-O-O-O-

The water of the lake was cold, but they still managed to dip their feet in. Now, Hermione, Ron, Harry and Neville watched the sun play on the rippling water. Breakfast had been quiet, seeing as there were so few students. The Slytherins had once again kept to themselves while the rest of the Houses sat together. The day, too, had been quiet. School didn't officially open for another two days, and there was not much to do. Even Hermione couldn't get started on the homework because none of the teachers had assigned anything. It was Harry who decided to come out to the lake for a picnic. The others had agreed, and they had gone down to the kitchens to get some food.

It had been strange not to be greeted by Dobby, but Winky was doing much better. She was one of the elves who still refused wages from Hogwarts, but had accepted clothes. She also had pressed them with more food than they could eat in a week. And now they were lounging on the banks of the lake and occasionally tossing in leftovers for the giant squid to eat.

"So, how were the dorms last night?" Hermione had been dying to ask this. The boys made faces, and Neville spoke up.

"It was fine, just really awkward. We all went to bed really early." Hermione giggled.

"We did the same thing. It's so hard to get used to being with people you barely know. Did the Slytherins behave?" she couldn't help but ask. Harry chuckled and responded, while Ron grimaced.

"They were fine. I got the feeling they all just want to make it through the year." Neville nodded in agreement. Ron, however, shook his head.

"I still don't trust them. I mean, tell me where Malfoy was this morning. How do we know he's not finding another Vanishing Cabinet or something?"

"Ron, I know you don't trust him. I don't really either," Harry tried to reason with his friend. "But I don't think he – or any of them, for that matter – can or want to do much damage. From what I heard, he was pretty shaken up after Azkaban." Ron still frowned.

"Do you know when the Hogsmeade visits are?" Neville asked in an attempt to lighten the conversation. Hermione had asked McGonagall the same question, so she had an answer for him.

"We're allowed in every weekend as long as we check out with one of the Heads. Obviously, it's a privilege they can take away, and some weekends we might not be allowed to go down if there's something going on in the castle. I think Professor McGonagall is going to tell us more later, maybe at the Opening Feast." At the mention of feast, Ron smiled dreamily. The other three laughed at him and he opened his eyes in confusion.

"What? I'm a growing boy!" he defended himself.

"Yeah – growing sideways," Harry muttered while Neville and Hermione looked on, helpless with laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTE: ** **I do not own any recognizable characters, etc. It's all Rowling.**

_The man in the cell next to him was screaming again. Draco ground his teeth in frustration. Finally, the man stopped. Sighing in relief, Draco rolled over to get a more comfortable position on his cot. Pulling the thin blanket over himself, he tried to doze off. It definitely didn't help that he could hear more screaming from cells further away. It kept getting colder and colder, and Draco knew a dementor was approaching, probably on patrol. He watched it as it glided down the hall, black and dangerous. His teeth chattered and he tried to compose himself. _

_The creature stopped outside his cell and reached out a skeletal hand to unlock the door. The cloaked figure came nearer and nearer. Placing its hand on his shoulder, it drew back his hood. Draco couldn't help the fog that was closing over him, and dimly he heard his neighbor screaming again. Then he realized it wasn't his neighbor who was screaming. It was Draco. _

Draco forced himself awake. Sitting up, he found Blaise leaning over him, hand on his shoulder as if he had been trying to shake Draco conscious.

"What was it this time, mate?" Blaise asked worriedly, his eyes not leaving Draco's.

"Azkaban." Draco said shortly. "A… a dementor was trying to Kiss me." Blaise shuddered.

"I don't think anyone else heard. I put a silencing charm on your bed right when I woke up." Draco looked up at his friend.

"Thanks, Blaise. I don't know what I would do without you." Blaise grinned and looked down at him.

"Just remember this next time there's a dance and I don't have a date. I don't know where you get all those girls from, but they are gorgeous." Draco flapped his hand.

"Your wish is my command, Master Zabini."

"Very good, Master Malfoy. Now if you are done flopping in your bed like a stranded fish, I will be returning to my own." Blaise gave a very elaborate mock bow, and Draco chuckled.

"See you in the morning, Blaise," he called.

"It _is_ morning," came the muffled reply. Draco looked at his clock and saw that it was only three. He lay down in bed again and closed his eyes. Counting down from one hundred like his mother had taught him, he reached negative eighty-seven before feeling himself slip off into a light doze.

-O-O-O-O-

Blaise found him the next morning in the library.

"Why weren't you at breakfast this morning?" he demanded to know. Draco absentmindedly waved his hand towards one of the empty chairs at his table as he poured over a book.

"I ate earlier," he replied as he turned a page. Blaise snorted as he dropped into one of the chairs.

"Fine. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm looking to see if Hogwarts has a music room." Here Draco looked up and Blaise could see the tension in his eyes. "Playing piano helps me relax. I played every day at the manor, but I can't find anything here. And I've spent a good amount of time looking."

"What about that place where you found the vanishing cabinet?" Blaise suggested. Draco's eyes flashed a warning. "No, not that room exactly. It's called the Room of Need or something like that. It's how Potter hid that secret group in fifth year. Maybe it can turn into a music room for you." Draco frowned slightly.

"I still don't think people would be happy if I went skulking around that room." Draco wasn't sure why he was so unwilling.

"You won't be skulking. If you're really worried, go ask McGonagall or something. I can act as chaperone or whatever."

"Blaise, you really are a genius, you know that?" Blaise chuckled.

-O-O-O-O-

Draco and Blaise went straight to McGonagall's office. She seemed faintly surprised to see the two of them, but ushered in all the same. When they explained what it was they wanted to use the Room of Requirement for, she sat back and studied them for a moment.

"You really are full of surprises, Mr. Malfoy. You didn't really need permission, but I appreciate your honesty. So, yes, you may use the room. I am going to trust you on this. If anyone gives you trouble about this, send them to me. Draco nodded. "If that is all, you are dismissed. Though, Mr. Malfoy, would you mind staying behind? I wish to speak with you." Blaise left, leaving Draco alone under McGonagall's powerful eyes. He shifted in his chair.

"Mr. Malfoy, you said that you had trouble sleeping?" Draco nodded. He had kept the problem vague, not mentioning the nightmares in particular. "Have you spoken with anyone about this?

"A little bit with Blaise. And when the healers were trying to fix my leg, they gave me a sleeping potion. Mostly for the pain, though. It does, however, keep me asleep. I can't use it very often, but if the pain is bad enough, I do." McGonagall nodded.

"I see. If you need anything more of the sort, I'm sure Professor Slughorn and Madame Pomfrey could be of assistance. That is all, Mr. Malfoy." He thanked her and slowly left the room.

Blaise was waiting for him in the hallway. He raised an eyebrow in silent question, and Draco grinned shakily, giving a thumbs-up. The two headed back to the common room. The opening feast was tonight, and they had to change into their school robes.

-O-O-O-O-

The new first years gazed around excitedly. The Sorting was finished and the feast had just appeared on the tables. It was good to see the Great Hall filled again. The suspicious looks had not been as bad as he was expecting, and no one had attacked him yet, so in Draco's opinion the feast was going rather well. Some of the first-years had looked terrified when they were sorted into Slytherin, but they had relaxed when they realized they were not going to be eaten or Marked on the spot. Draco was currently in conversation with a sixth-year who was curious about what his classes would be like. Unfortunately, Draco had not been paying much attention to classes during his sixth year and couldn't give the boy much information.

When the feast was ended, Draco received many more fearful looks than before as he limped through the hallways. Damn – he had thought it wouldn't be that bad. Composing himself, he made his way, somewhat hurriedly, to the sixth floor.

Finding himself in a familiar hallway, Draco smiled grimly. He paced back and forth near the tapestry of Barnabas, and sure enough, a door appeared. He opened it, and let out a sigh.

There, in the middle of the room, was one of the most beautiful pianos Draco had ever seen. The ivory keys called for him and he dropped his cane as soon as he could sink down onto the bench. He carefully pressed on of the keys, and grinned when the note played in perfect pitch. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the music. He played until all he saw and heard were his fingers across the keyboard and the notes in his ears.

He let the music trickle away, and slumped on the bench – exhausted but peaceful. Glancing at his wrist, he saw it was past eleven o'clock. He had no idea how the time had passed so quickly. Standing up and stretching, Draco moved towards the door. Hearing people in the hallway, he waited in the Room of Requirement until they were gone. While he had McGonagall on his side, Draco wasn't sure he could trust the rest of the student body to ask questions before attacking. He made his way slowly to the portrait of the Founders. Thankfully, they did none of the riddle asking, soul-searching stuff that the headmistress had told them about. All Draco wanted to do was go to bed – he was exhausted.

The dormitory was pitch black, seeing at it was nearly midnight. After narrowly avoiding tripping over a pair of shoes and a book, Draco decided it would just be easier to crawl. Hoping everyone was in their beds and fast asleep, he got down on his hands and knees to make his way over to his bed. He was almost there when he heard someone talking. He froze.

"No! Don't - don't touch her! She – let her go!" Draco realized it was Potter, talking in his sleep. He swallowed a smirk as he thought of what he would have done the year before with this knowledge. But now? Best to let sleeping dogs lie. He knew more than anyone how terrifying the night could be. If Potter, too, wanted to face it alone, Draco wasn't going to do anything about it. He understood.

**A/N: Sooooo, watcha think? Also, I'm thinking of changing the story title because it currently has nothing to do with anything at all. Just wondering if perchance any of you have any ideas? Let me know! **


	7. Chapter 7

**NOTE: **I do not own any recognizable characters, etc. It is all Rowling.

Hermione placed her five knuts in the pouch on the owl's leg and removed the copy of the Daily Prophet. Unfurling it, she tried to ignore Ron and Harry, who were comparing their schedules and complaining.

"Double potions? _And_ double transfiguration? In the _same_ day? _Back to back?_" Ron's voice got more shrill and outraged with every realization about this unfortunate scheduling.

"I know, mate," Harry sympathized. "You got Divination dropped, right?"

"Of course I got it dropped. I am only taking the classes I need to be an Auror." Ron replied. "Shacklebolt said he might give us credits for these classes so we don't have to take them in training."

"Hermione, let me see your schedule." Harry didn't wait for her to reply – he just reached over to grab it. Not that she minded, being thoroughly absorbed in an article about Muggle techniques being used in Wizard medicine. "Let's see… We have Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology and DADA with you. And then, for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, you're on your own. Geez, Hermione. I thought we were planning on taking it easy this year."

"Maybe you were," she sniffed from behind her paper. "But not all of us have a career already picked out and handed to us."

"Don't push her when she's like this," cautioned Ron. "You know how she gets. Probably already has her NEWT study schedule planned out." Hermione thumped him with her newspaper, but smiled.

-O-O-O-O-

The three of them made their way down to Potions dungeon. Since there weren't that many eighth years taking potions, they were all in the same class. This had been done with a lot of classes, as there were so few of them and the teachers wanted to keep the years separate in their academics as much as possible.

The tables inside the classroom were set up in pairs, and Hermione sat at the table next to Ron and Harry's. Usually they fought over who got to sit next to her, but they were distracted by once again discussing Quidditch. Hermione turned around and started chatting with Sarah Fawcett and Anthony Goldstein, both from Ravenclaw. In the corner, Zabini and Daphne Greengrass appeared deep in conversation. Hermione realized she was the only person sitting alone, and hoped she wouldn't have to work by herself.

Just then, Professor Slughorn came through the door. Making his ponderous way up to the front of the classroom, he nodded jovially and smiled at them. Counting heads, he frowned slightly.

"It seems we are missing som – " in the middle of his sentence, the door to the classroom opened, and Malfoy walked in. Hermione tensed, knowing the only open seat was next to her. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy! So good of you to join us. Take a seat, take a seat. Ah – there's an open one next to Ms. Granger. Excellent, excellent." Hermione stared straight ahead, expecting a drawling insult any second. But Malfoy remained silent, pulling out his Potions book as Slughorn explained the potion they were going to be working on – with the person sitting next to them.

"We should get started then," She briskly once Slughorn had finished his introduction, trying to just get through the lesson. "Let's see… we'll need some salamander eggs and beetle wings to start." Malfoy nodded slowly.

"Do you want to get those and I'll start cutting up these roots?" He motioned to the gnarly sticks lying in front of them. Slughorn had specially set them out from the store of more advanced ingredients. Hermione nodded, still carefully not looking at him, and made here way to the ingredient cabinet. Finding what she was looking for, she returned to find Malfoy already simmering the roots in their cauldron. He looked up when she approached. He still looked exhausted and thin, and his eyes were guarded. But he was looking better than he had in Diagon Alley. He hesitated, and then spoke.

"You know, if you add a little bit of beetle juice, the salamander eggs become more potent." His voice was husky and quiet. She hadn't really heard him speak without a sneer in his voice, and it was a pleasant change.

"Alright, let's try it." He crushed a beetle wit the flat of his knife and watched as black goop spurted out. Flicking a few drops onto the salamander eggs, he added them to the cauldron, which emitted a faint cloud of orange smoke that quickly disappeared. Slughorn came over to see what they were doing.

"Beetle juice?" he asked. When they nodded, he barked out a laugh. "Excellent. Excellent! Twenty points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor. My word…" Hermione stole a glance at Draco, who seemed amused by the man standing in front of them. Slughorn drifted away, still chuckling, and Hermione turned back to the cauldron.

"Any other tips?" she asked, somewhat annoyed that he had known something she hadn't, and slightly impressed that he had. His eyes scanned down the page, and he shook his head.

"I don't think so. There are some things that you can replace with others if you don't have them, but that doesn't really matter since we have everything we need here."

"How do you _know_ all of this?" she couldn't help but ask. A brief smile flitted across his face.

"I read, Granger. Despite what you might think, I wasn't planning on sitting in the Manor all day spending money. Besides, I've always liked Potions and Sna– and I had a teacher who was willing to endure my not always well planned experiments."

"Oh," was all Hermione said in reply, and went back to grinding a pig hoof into powder. Her mind was racing, though. She hadn't missed that little slip up about Snape, and wondered about it. She hadn't thought Snape capable of affection, but evidently he and Malfoy had been close. She had also never thought that people would actually _miss_ the man, but apparently she was wrong.

"Alright," came Slughorn's boom from the front of the classroom. "You should be about halfway done. Since it's only your first day back, I took it easy on you and assigned a potion that should only take the class period. Your potions should be orange, clear and thin, unless you have already reached this stage and moved on to a purple color." Hermione looked at her potion. It was exactly as Slughorn had described it. Looking over at Harry and Ron, she saw that they had a red, goopy mess in their cauldron. Malfoy saw where she was looking and smirked a little, but made no comment. The two of them worked in silence until Hermione registered something that Slughorn had said. They were halfway through their two-hour class. And Malfoy had not once taunted, insulted or called her names.

"Malfoy," she said slowly. He turned to look at her. "Why are you being so civil? I thought you hated me for being… being a Mudblood." He paused to consider this.

"First of all, I never really hated you. Second of all, it's been a long year. You can't go through something like that and _not_ change." He paused and took a breath. "It's just not worth trying to keep something living that should have died a long time ago." Seeing her confused face, he elaborated. "All that Mudblood-Pureblood shit. You can't help what you were born as, and I can't help what I was. Why try to fight something you can't change?

"Besides," and here he snorted, "what you're born doesn't change anything about how you turn out. Look at you. Look at Lucius. Look at _me_ for Merlin's sake." His voice had become more frantic as he spoke, and he abruptly fell silent and looked away. Luckily, no one had noticed his rant, engaged as they were in their smoking cauldrons.

"Malfoy?" Hermione said cautiously after a few moments of silence. He didn't look at her.

"We need to add the spider teeth," he said in an expressionless monotone.

"Oh, alright." The rest of the class continued in silence, broken only when they conferred over directions. Hermione wondered what had caused that outburst. He had almost been _nice_, and had opened up to her. Then again, Malfoy had never seemed to be the kumbaya and tell the world how you feel type of person. Maybe he was ashamed. Maybe he was embarrassed. Then it occurred to her that Malfoy might be _lonely_. He had the rest of the Slytherins, but they were a small group and he didn't seem particularly close to anyone except Blaise. All these possibilities made Hermione's head hurt. She chose instead to focus on the potion.

At the end of the period, their potion looked picture perfect and exactly how it was described in the book. Ron and Harry's potion had actually turned out all right. Draco bottled and labeled a sample of their potion and brought it to Slughorn, who beamed and gave them each ten points. Hermione cleaned the cauldron and looked around, but the tall blond Slytherin had left. Shrugging her shoulders, she joined Ron and Harry as they discussed the failure of their potion in particular and potion making skills in general. They all grabbed a quick lunch and went to the Transfiguration classroom. Malfoy was already there, but he had seated himself with Zabini and Theo Nott.

-O-O-O-O-

Hermione settled down in the common room to work on her Potions assignment. Professor Slughorn had assigned them an essay but it was neither long nor difficult. While they didn't have Potions the next day, Hermione felt a need to get as much done as she could so that she wouldn't have to cram later. After seven years, Ron and Harry had yet to follow her example, but she felt they paid the price with their many late nights frantically writing in the common room. The essay was on the strengthening of healing potions, and she thought she remembered an essay in the book she had gotten at Flourish and Blotts. She hadn't gotten around to reading that particular one, so she wasn't sure, but it was worth a shot.

She got the book out of her bag and flipped it open. Leafing through the pages, she found the essay, but was shocked to see writing in the margins. Then she remembered that this was Malfoy's copy, and mentally smacked herself for forgetting to put it back. Still it was here, and his notes had all been helpful thus far, so she decided to give it back when she was done with her essay. Smiling slightly, she settled down to read.

**A/N: Hope you like. Madame Lure, I hope you are pleased with the tech dept. for getting all my stuff transferred. Took a weight off my chest, that. As always, reviews are much appreciated (comments, concerns, criticism are all gladly received). Gracias! Until next week (I have to start writing... I'm trying to stockpile as my chapters as I can before school starts so I can put them up regularly!)!**


	8. Chapter 8

**NOTE: **I do not own any recognizable characters, places, etc. It is all JK Rowling.

-O-O-O-O-

Draco cursed as he walked into the corner of a table. The fire in the grate had died down, and the common room was nearly pitch black. Rubbing his aching hip, he gestured at the fireplace with his wand and was gratified to see the orange flames spring up. He muttered, "lumos," for good measure, and made his way over to one of the armchairs. The clock on the mantelpiece read a quarter past four, and Draco groaned. It hadn't been a nightmare that had woken him up – it had been the throbbing in his knee that grew persistently worse the more he tried to ignore it. He would have used the Draught of Peace, except that he had left it at home with his mother, who, quite frankly, needed it more than he did.

Snapping his fingers, he waited for a house-elf to appear. Within a minute, one of the small creatures cracked into the room.

"Tobs is here, sir!" squeaked the elf. "What is you needing, sir?"

"Could you please bring me a towel and a bucket of ice Tobs?" No matter Lucius' treatment of Dobby, Draco always treated house elves with decency.

"Tobs will be just a moment, sir!" And so, within ten minutes, Draco was comfortably sprawled on one of the couches with an icepack wrapped around his leg and a glass of warm milk in his hand – Tobs having felt that there was nothing like a glass of milk to make one feel better. Since he had time to kill – none of the other boys would likely be up before seven – Draco started on his Potions essay. It was simple enough, though he thought he had seen something in his book of Potions theories that would really back up his argument. Summoning his schoolbag to the couch, he rummaged through it. The book was nowhere to be found.

Draco cursed again. Granger still had his book from when she'd thought it was hers. He debated whether or not the castle would allow him to take something from a girl's room, but decided that he might as well give it a shot, seeing as the only homework he had left was Potions and he was in the perfect position to do it now. Reaching for his wand, he Summoned his book. Instead of coming through the archway from the girl's dorm, it zoomed from one of the tables in the common room. It came so quickly he had to use all his Seeking reflexes to catch it before it broke his nose. Running his had over the smooth leather cover, he opened the book. As he flipped through the pages, a small piece of parchment fell into his lap. He finished finding the right page before opening it.

_Malfoy – I used Borage, but Hopner has good theories too. – Granger _

Draco smirked before shaking his head. Only a Gryffindor would be halfway civil after seven years of torment and animosity. And she was right about Hopner – he wondered if she would ever want to discuss theories more thoroughly. Draco snorted and shook his head. She might be willing to be civil, but he doubted even she would trust him enough to be more than polite. Not that he blamed her – he didn't even trust himself anymore.

Scowling at the melancholy turn his thoughts were taking, Draco turned his attention back to his essay.

-O-O-O-O-

Draco and Blaise strolled through the sunlit corridors. It was finally the weekend, and neither of them had much to do. Draco had finished all his assignments in the small hours of the morning, and Blaise had joined him after breakfast, being an early riser himself. It was now nearly lunchtime, but Draco didn't have much appetite. The two talked about trivial things – the latest news from Blaise's mother in France and plans for the next Hogsmeade weekend. Not that Draco had any plans for it. He knew Blaise was planning on going with Pansy, and he didn't want to intrude on whatever was growing between the two of them. None of the eighth years had gone into town this first weekend – they all just wanted to settle in.

The two of them walked by a group of young Hufflepuffs who drew together fearfully when they saw Draco approach.

"C'mon, mate," Blaise said calmly, as though he hadn't just seen people actually cower in front of an eighteen year old boy. "I promised I'd meet Pansy for lunch. We should probably head down."

"You go ahead. I'm not hungry." It was true – what little appetite he had had before had vanished under a wave of anger, guilt and sadness.

"Draco…" the dark boy sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder. Blaise had only an inkling of what his Draco was going through, but he understood the blond boy needed some time alone. "I'll see you later, yeah?" Draco nodded and walked of, already lost in his thoughts.

He knew he was lucky to have Blaise Zabini as a friend. While Blaise had not had the most normal familial situation – his mother was somewhat infamous for the way she went through husbands – he had not been raised with the same fanaticism for blood purity and Voldemort. While the Zabini's sympathized with Voldemort's cause, they never openly supported it. Their neutrality had led them through the war with name and bank account intact, and Mrs. Zabini's assistance in locating and destroying Dark artifacts had quelled the rumors that they were secretly Death Eaters. So even though both Blaise and his mother knew full well how associating with Malfoys could tarnish the Zabini name, they had stuck with them.

Their friendship had started in their first year when some older boys were tormenting Blaise about his father, or multitude thereof. Draco had stepped in, and used his natural authority and arrogance to compensate for his diminutive size. Something had clicked between them, and they had formed a bond that had withstood hell and high water. Draco had confided in Blaise about things he had told no one else, and Blaise found comfort from Draco's claims that fathers weren't all they were made out to be. It didn't hurt that Narcissa and Medea Zabini quickly became friends as well.

The Zabinis had practically moved into the Manor once the War was over. Draco wasn't sure his mother would have made it through the month he was in Azkaban without Mrs. Zabini, who took charge and ensured that Narcissa did not brood over the fate of her men. Blaise himself had kept many silent vigils with Draco upon his return, when even the Draught of Peace had failed to bring relief from the nightmares. No matter how much Gryffindor prided itself on its honor, there was loyalty in Slytherin that ran deeper than the cunning and ambition.

Draco pulled himself out of his thoughts hen he realized his feet had taken him all the way to the Owlery without him noticing. He had a letter to send to his mother, and no one was in the tower, seeing as it was lunchtime. He called for his owl, Daedalus, who promptly flew down from the rafters to greet him. Stroking the soft black feathers near Daedalus' beak, Draco attached his letter.

"She's in Italy, with Mrs. Nott. You've been there before. In the south east, on the sea." Daedalus hooted in acknowledgement and gently nipped Draco's fingers before soaring through the window and winging away. Draco watched as the small black shape disappeared into the distance. Pausing, he gazed out the window at the school grounds. The lake glittered as the sun hit it, and he could see several students lounging on the banks and throwing food to the giant squid. A cloud seemed to pass in front of the sun when he looked at the Quidditch pitch.

The school season had not started yet, but several people were flying around, passing a ball back and forth. A too-familiar tightness enveloped his chest as he stared at the spiraling figures.

_The Healer looked at him in concern and pity when he asked how soon until he could fly. She had been slightly wary of him during his stay at the hospital, but had gradually become friendlier as the days progressed. _

_ "Well, as you know, the damage was severe and while we've done the best we could, your leg will never be what it once was. _

_ He had nodded impatiently – it wasn't her fault his knee had wasted away in Azkaban with the rest of him. _

_ "I'm sorry, but you won't be able to fly for several months. And then, it can only be light, recreational. I'm afraid you won't be able to play Quidditch. The tendons were just too damaged to be strong enough to withstand that much stress." She had gone on to give him the usual daily checkup while he just sat in shock. _

_ He was still sitting there in shock when she had returned that night to give him the mess of potions that would knock him out for the night. _

Draco shook himself loose from the memory. That had been his last night at St. Mungo's, and his last night for weeks of sound, dreamless sleep. Whatever the Healers had been using to put him to sleep, they hadn't sent him home with. And the Draught of Peace had done nothing for three weeks until he had finally felt safe enough at home for his body to relax.

No sooner had he resumed staring at the lake when someone walked into the Owlery. Draco chose to ignore them, assuming it was some young student who would just run away when they realized it was him. Then he heard a muffled throat clearing.

"Oh, er, hullo Malfoy." Draco glanced over his shoulder and lifted a single eyebrow in surprise.

"Potter," he said evenly, if a bit curtly. He didn't know what to expect. The two of them had never had a conversation that wasn't full of snide, sneering comments.

"Listen, uh, Malfoy," more shuffling behind him. "I don't think we'll ever be friends, but maybe we can get over this whole enemy thing." Draco turned to face the black-haired wizard, one eyebrow still raised.

"How very… Gryffindor of you," he drawled, maintaining an expressionless face.

"Yes, well…" Potter was flustered. "I just feel like now that the whole war is over, there's no use in keeping the same enemies and stuff." Since Draco shared these same sentiments, he made no comment. Merely nodded his head for Potter to continue. "Also, well… I appreciate you covering for us at the Manor." The last part was rushed out, and Draco flinched as unwelcome, painful memories popped into his head.

"Very well, Potter. I accept your truce. I will be civil, though I doubt I will be able to control myself the next time you do something extraordinarily dimwitted." Draco paused to enjoy the look of indignation. At least he had diverted Potter from his thoughts of '_appreciation_.' "Now, if you'll excuse me, it is time for lunch."

Draco strode out of the Owlery. While he was tired of all the fighting, there was just something so amusing about pushing Potter's buttons. Appetite restored, he made his way down to the Great Hall.

**A/N: **A little long, I know… Hope it all make sense. Please read/review! Gracias!


	9. Chapter 9

**NOTE: **I do not own anything – it's all Rowling epic-ness.

-O-O-O-O-

Hermione huffed in frustration as she glared down at her two best friends who were currently lingering over their kippers and toast. "Come _on_," she exclaimed, "If we don't hurry, we'll be late for class. And Professor Kemp said this class was going to be tough!"

"Hermione, calm down! Harry and I are just finishing breakfast, which, might I remind you, is the most important meal of the day. If you want to go on, go ahead."

"Fine, _Ronald_. But remember that this is what happens when you stay up until Merlin knows when talking about chess and Quidditch." She grabbed her bag and marched off. She herself had stayed up rather late the night before, but _she_ had been putting her time to good use. It was now a month and a half into the school year, and Hermione was in full-fledged study mode. She has spent the night finishing a Transfiguration essay and agonizing over an assignment she had handed into Slughorn, certain she had messed it up somehow.

Hermione arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with several minutes to spare, but was unsurprised to see people already there. Kemp's teaching style was much like Lupin's or Mad-Eye Moody's (rather, his imposter's). He did a lot of hands-on teaching, and was open to questions and debates. Several of the girls had been quite disappointed to learn he was engaged, something which amused Hermione to no end.

Padma Patil took the seat next to Hermione. While her Gryffindor twin was somewhat shallow, in Hermione's opinion, Padma was rightfully placed in Ravenclaw. The two got along quite well, and were in all the same classes this year.

"Do you have any idea what we're doing today?" Hermione asked.

"No idea," said Padma, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. "But that last class with all the wards was so interesting!" The two continued talking while Ron and Harry rushed in. Soon after, Professor Kemp walked through the door.

"Well, class, you won't need books today. Just your wands. We'll be going on a little field trip." There was a scuffle as everyone put their books away and stood up. Kemp led them to an unused classroom. In the middle of the room sat a trunk, which would give a good shake every few moments. Realization dawned on Hermione.

"Now, I know you learned how to deal with boggarts your third year." The class nodded. Hermione shot a glance at Malfoy – he, like Padma, was in all of her classes – and saw him visibly pale when he realized what was happening. He still managed to keep his features smooth and expressionless, however. "So, this is part review, because this fella happened to be handy. It's also to help you face your fears. A lot of Dark magic is based on fear and negative emotions. Hopefully this will help strengthen your mind so that you _can_ fight off an Imperio or some other curse." Hermione felt Harry shift next to her.

"Professor, are you sure this is a good idea?" he ventured. "Not to be disrespectful, but I think that after all that's happened, people's fears are a lot more… scary then they were five years ago."

"You make a good point, Mr. Potter. And I did think of it." The professor did not look at all surprised or resentful to have his decision questioned. "However, I believe that it is important to face your fears. This lesson is also an exercise of trust. All of you will go out into the world at the same time. While before you kept to your Houses, those barriers have no place in the real world. I'm not asking you to be friends, or even like each other, but I'm hoping that you will support each other through this. It's going to be hard, but maybe my understanding each other a bit more, you'll realize there isn't that much difference separating you." Ron snorted at the last bit, but the rest of the class was silent. Kemp was a compelling speaker, and his little speech struck close to home for many.

"Well, then," Kemp clapped his hands. "You know the drill. Mr. Weasley, perhaps you could start us off." Ron blanched a little, but positioned himself in front of the trunk all the same. A huge spider leapt out, but Ron braced himself and shouted, "Riddikulus!" A crack, and rollerblades appeared on its feat, and it skittered this way and that. Funny how some things never changed. Neville was next – the boggart transformed, not into Snape, but into a tall, dark heavy-lidded woman. The Bellatrix-boggart snarled and reached for her wand, but not before Neville shouted the spell and Bellatrix shrunk into a tiny, headless grass snake.

Hermione doubted that Neville was the only one whose boggart had changed. She didn't even know what _hers_ would be, though Bellatrix Lestrange was certainly a possibility. She doubted, however, that most of the people in the room would produce a Voldemort-boggart. Very few of them had seen him more than the one time at the Final Battle. It was just her, Ron, Harry… and Malfoy. Despite the fact that he had on his usual expressionless face, there was a hint of panic in his eyes.

Blaise went next. The jack in the box (courtesy of Padma) turned into a Lethifold, slithering along the ground. A crack, and the creature folded neatly onto itself and became a package from Madame Malkins.

A banshee, another spider, and two masked Death Eaters later, Malfoy stepped forward. Hermione saw his face tighten as the boggart transformed, into a dementor. The class froze. The dementor drew back its hood, and the blond boy was left staring at himself in horror. Then, the face in front of them aged, the features changing, until it was Lucius Malfoy who stood there in a dementor's cloak, the familiar sneer across his face. Hermione shuddered, and saw that any color left on Malfoy's face had vanished. She stepped forward.

"Riddikulus!" she shouted. The dementor-Lucius-boggart gave her a look of surprise before turning into a first-year's Herbology assignment. Malfoy whirled and stalked out of the room as quickly as his leg could carry him. Zabini swore while managing to give her a look of thanks and direct a glare at their teacher, and then followed his friend out of the room. Kemp quickly drove the piece of parchment into the trunk and locked it. He looked at the silent class.

"Damn. I'm so sorry class. Harry, I should have listened to you. Umm… Why don't you all leave a little early? Your essays are postponed until next class, so I'd advise you to look them over again." He ran a hand through his hair while the students filed out.

-O-O-O-O-

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat out on the lawn, making good use of their shortened class. They were discussing Malfoy's boggart, trying to figure out what it meant.

"Well, he's obviously afraid of dementors," Ron said.

"Who knew we had something in common?" Harry observed wryly.

"But is he afraid of his _father_?" Hermione was still trying to analyze it.

"Probably. I mean, who isn't?" Ron scowled. "Why are we worrying about the git again?" It was Harry who answered.

"Because, Ron, that git isn't as much of a git anymore. Dumbledore was always talking about unity. But it seems like for the last seven years, at least, it's been three Houses _unified_ against one. We should give them all a chance." Ron grumbled, but held his peace.

"So," Hermione said, a little too brightly. "How is Quidditch going?" McGonagall had decided it would be unfair to have eighth years on the House teams, but she had allowed eighth years to be coaches, of a sort. So, Ron and Harry spent every few evenings out on the pitch. Hermione knew Terry Boot was helping with the Ravenclaw team, but she didn't know about Slytherin or Hufflepuff.

"It's great!" Ron exclaimed, and started babbling about all the training techniques he had looked up. Harry added a comment here and there.

"You know what would be cool?" Harry interjected a few minutes later. "If us eighth years had a team. We wouldn't do anything official, but we could scrimmage against the House teams and stuff." Hermione smiled as the faraway look entered her best friends' eyes. She tried to encourage them.

"That sounds like fun. I don't think there are that many of us who play Quidditch, but there should be enough."

"Hmm. And Terry Boot and Justin Finch-Fletchy can Chase."

"Wasn't that Zabini kid a Chaser?" Harry mused.

"A _Slytherin_?" Ron was incredulous. Hermione glared at him.

"Did you learn nothing from class today?"

"Hermione's right, Ron. Just… let it go." Harry had told them of his encounter with Malfoy a few weeks before, so Hermione knew that he at least was tired of all the grudges. "Besides, we should probably ask around, see if people are actually interested before we do anything."

"Yeah, alright. Hey, we should probably head to lunch. It's almost eleven, and we have Charms at noon."

"Oh, I hope you guys don't mind, but Ginny said something about wanting to eat with me," Harry said, a little sheepishly.

"Why would we mind?" Ron asked, bemused. "There's plenty of room for Ginny to sit with us." He missed the glare Hermione shot at him, so she kicked his foot.

"Of _course_ we don't mind Harry," she said firmly, while Ron looked at her in confusion. "_Ron_ and I were thinking of meeting up with Neville–"

"We were?"

"–meeting up with Neville," she overrode him, "so you and Ginny have fun."

Harry gave her a look of gratitude as they reached the Great Hall and Hermione nearly dragged Ron to the opposite end of the table, away from his sister and best friend.

**A/N: Another chapter – hope you enjoyed. Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed! I really appreciate it. Anyhoo, in case there was any confusion: Draco is afraid of becoming his father (more on that next chapter – get excited!) If there are more questions about things that are unclear, just let me know and I'll try to sort things out. Thanks again for reading! **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I do not own anything. It's all Rowling. Though I do wish I did… That would be so awesome… **

Draco absentmindedly played with the piano keys before him. He had no desire to play anything, but the Room of Requirement had been the logical place to go after the disastrous Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Knowing Blaise would be looking for him, he had decided to avoid the common room and library. There was no reason the music room couldn't also act as a thinking room. _Damn that Kemp man. Of all the things he could have taught us, he chose _that.

He hadn't even known what his boggart would turn into when the trunk had first opened. Maybe Voldemort, or Bellatrix. He could even understand a dementor. _You got the dementor all right. And you should have ended it there._ But, no – he had proceeded to show the class the nagging concern that kept him up at night.

It wasn't that Draco was afraid of _Lucius_. What scared him was that Lucius had been so convinced that everything he did was for the greater good of his family. Lucius had first joined the Dark Lord because of the pull of power and the sense of superiority that ran through his veins. And then suddenly there was a ring on his finger and a screaming baby in the room next door, and it was too late to get out. The plan to distance himself from his wife and son to 'protect them' failed as that indifference became habit, and not even that night in July, seventeen years ago, could convince Lucius Malfoy that it was safe enough to love his family again.

And Draco was afraid. Afraid that one day he would shun everyone and everything in a futile attempt to save them. Afraid that people would pay for his sins the way he was paying for his father's. Afraid that he would be too proud admit it when he was _wrong_. Afraid that his moral compass was too screwed up to even _know_ right from wrong.

Draco started as the door behind him opened. It was Blaise – of course – and he was carrying a plate of sandwiches.

"Wasn't sure if you would be hungry," was all he said when Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow. He set the platter down on the piano and merely stood there, gazing at Draco, who stared right back.

"If you're expecting a tearful confession of what happened during class, Blaise, I'm afraid you'll have to leave unsatisfied."

"Really, Draco? You're really going to pull your whole 'I don't give a crap' act and expect me to just go away?" Draco just continued to look at his friend, watching Blaise grow frustrated.

"What's the point?" he finally drawled. "We've told each other everything for the past seven years, so there's not much to tell."

"The _point_, Draco is that I want to _help_ you," Blaise finally exploded. "The _point_ is that you haven't told me _anything_ about what actually happened to you last year, and I'm _worried._ You just hid away behind you little smirk and don't let anyone get near you. The _point_ is that I can see you turning into your father every day because you're so afraid that people will actually bloody _care_ about you!" Draco stood up and gave Blaise as good as he got.

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to my father, _Blaise Zabini_. And I don't _deserve _to have people care about me. In case you hadn't noticed, the headmaster is dead and half the people at this bloody school _lost_ someone because of what I am. So why don't you go comfort Weasley about his brother because he sure as hell deserves it more than I do." Draco folded his arms and glared at Blaise, who looked slightly smug.

"Good. At least I managed to get _one_ thing out of you for today. Look, Draco, I do want to help you, and I can't do that if you just… bottle everything up. Because one day you're going to crack around someone who isn't as… equipped to handle you, and that day isn't going to end well for anyone. I'm sorry for yelling at you, but I just wish you'd _talk_, if not to me, then to _someone_." Draco felt his anger at Blaise drain away when he heard the raw concern in his friend's voice.

"I'm sorry too, Blaise. I shouldn't have yelled at you. Not when you've put up with me for so long. And I deserved that." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I guess I just… I don't know. I don't know what to do or be or act like now that Lucius is… not here."

"It's okay, mate. You'll figure it out. You have me and Pansy and Daph and Theo, and it'll all be okay."

"Thanks Blaise."

"Yup. Merlin knows you've done this for me before."

"So… what kind of sandwiches did you bring up?"

-O-O-O-O-

The potions classroom was filled with various fumes and multi-colored smoke. Draco languidly cut up dried salamander tails as Blaise stirred their cauldron counterclockwise in precise movements. Their fight two days before was merely a memory, and Draco had finally gotten a full night's sleep with a carefully measured dose of Madame Pomfrey's dreamless sleep potion. He could only take it once or twice a week, but even that made a difference.

Today they were concoction concealment potions, which were more powerful than the concealment charm. While the potion was tricky, Draco was having no problems with it and his potion was looking quite good. He glanced around the classroom to see how the other students were doing. Pansy was working with that Ravenclaw, Anthony Goldstein. The pair looked frustrated that their potion was a deep green instead of the proper green-yellow it should be. He caught Pansy's eye and held up a salamander tail. She looked at it, then at the instructions, and her eyes widened. She said something to her partner, who looked surprised but added a bit of tail. Their potion turned the correct shade, and both Pansy and Goldstein gave him a look of gratitude. He nodded slightly in response.

Blaise, who was focused on his stirring, didn't even notice what Draco had done. He felt someone watching him, and turned to see Granger giving him a narrow-eyed, speculative look. He ignored her and moved on to powdering a gryphon claw.

Twenty minutes later, Draco was cleaning out his cauldron while Blaise brought their potion up to Slughorn, who awarded them ten points. Just as he finished packing up, he heard Slughorn's unmistakable boom.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, if I might have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, sir," Draco replied politely, abandoning his bag and coming to the front of the classroom. Granger followed close behind.

"Well," Slughorn began jovially, clapping his hands together. "I have rarely seen anything like the pair of you. To have one gifted student is all a teacher can ask for, but to have _two_ in the same class is fantastic, simply a dream." Draco waited for the professor to get to his point. "It seems the two of you have been finding this class a little lacking in _challenge_. So, I talked with the Headmistress and she agreed that I could take the two of you on as special, advanced students. You will still take the NEWTS at the end of the year, but I thought you would enjoy learning about some more interesting potions." Draco gave a nod of agreement, and Granger practically exploded with eagerness.

"Oh, _thank you_, Professor! I can't wait!" Typical Granger. _It seems she forgot she would be working with me. _

"Excellent, excellent. Well since we'll be working with some particularly fiddly potions, I don't want you distracted by the rest of the students. So we will meet here twice a week after lunch, since I looked at your schedules and saw that you had no classes at that time on Tuesdays and Fridays. Instead, you'll use this class as a free period, perhaps enjoy a nice dinner before the rest of the school gets out. Does that work well for everyone?" Draco nodded again, and glanced at Granger. She only showed excitement at her chance to learn more.

"Wonderful!" Slughorn shouted. "Well, I'll be seeing you on Tuesday, then. Have a good weekend, you two!" And he sailed out of the room, leaving his new special students behind.

"Well then, Granger," Draco said, somewhat awkwardly. "I'll be seeing you."

She merely nodded in response and walked out of the room, looking a little dazed. Draco sighed and followed her out, planning on going to the library and avoiding the dinner rush. This new Potions class intrigued him – he had always loved Potions, and Snape had acted as mentor and teacher to him as he experimented with different ingredients.

He knew Granger was good at Potions – she was good at everything – but he thought that perhaps in this one subject he did better than she did. And not just because of Snape's prejudice against Gryffindor. No matter what that House thought, or how unfairly they had been treated in class, Snape always gave credit where credit was due. And Draco had no doubt that Granger had been able to impress his dead godfather.

Draco was so deep in thought that he didn't even notice that people had come up behind him until he was pushed into the wall. He struggled to keep his balance, but a strong arm pinned him while another grabbed his cane. He couldn't see who was attacking him – Merlin, was it really _that_ late? – but that didn't matter when one of them punched him in the gut. Draco sank to his knees only to be pinned against the wall again.

"Remember, don't do anything where it'll show."

"Won't he run to Pomfrey or something?" The voices were unfamiliar – neither from Slytherin nor his year.

"Nah, it'll be fine," another blow to his ribs, "that damn stuck-up pride won't let him." Draco closed his eyes as a third fist pounded into his left kidney. It was true – he wouldn't tell anyone. He had half been expecting this since his first day back. Voldemort had hurt so many families, and he was the closest representation of all the Light side had been against. He supposed he deserved this, he thought idly as another punch made him gasp, after all he had done.

He hung limply against the wall, taking their curses and blows without resistance, without groans or cries. After a little while they stopped. He dropped to the ground and lay there. A last kick to the ribs – he barely flinched.

"That's the least you deserve, Death Eater scum." He heard footsteps walk away, but simply lay on the floor, feeling the cool stone beneath his cheek. After a minute, he crawled around to locate his cane before hoisting himself to his feet and limping off towards the library. He had a Charms essay to write.

**A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed. So, if it seems that Draco and Blaise got over their fight way too quickly, it's just because they've known each other forever. Neither of them is really touchy-feely, so they kind of get all their problems on the table and get over it. At least they try to. Also, lo siento for hurting poor Draco, but it had to be done. As always, reviews are much appreciated! **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I do not own any recognizable characters, etc. It is all JK Rowling. Enjoy!**

-O-O-O-O-

The cool breeze from the library door opening barely registered on Hermione as she ran her hand through her unruly hair and glared down at the parchment before her. It was her new free – set during her old Potions block – and she had decided to work on her Arithmancy assignment. Ron and Harry had been happy for her that Slughorn thought she was such a good student, but she knew they would miss the hints she often gave them in class. But that didn't change the fact that in the last hour she had barely made a dent in her charts.

"Is that the Arithmancy thing?" Hermione glanced up, startled. Blaise Zabini stood on the other side of the table, carrying his school bag. "Mind if I join?" She nodded and pushed some books to the side so that he would have room to work.

"Did something happen in Potions?" It was only halfway through the period, after all.

"Not really. Pansy and I just finished early. We were working on pretty simple healing potions."

"Oh, okay." The two sat in silence and struggled through their charts. Hermione thought about this odd friendliness between the two of them. It had started on the third Arithmany class of the year, when the two of them had both been early.

_She had been reading a book, and he was absentmindedly playing with his quill as he sat in front of her. Suddenly, he turned around. Hermione was momentarily distracted by his deep, dark eyes before she realized he had said something. _

_ "Sorry, what was that?"_

_ "I was just saying it was odd that in seven years of school together we've never been formally introduced." He stuck out his hand. "Blaise Zabini." She took it. _

_ "Hermione Granger. A pleasure, I'm sure." He chuckled and nodded towards her heavy stack of books. _

_ "I hope for your sake there's a weightlessness charm on those books." She gaped at him, and glanced between his face and the books several times before dropping her head to the table. _

_ "Seven years. _Seven years_ I've been hauling them around, and you come up with a solution not even a minute after meeting me." He had smirked and chuckled, watching as she beat her head against the desk. _

_ "Well, then, that's enough of that, Hermione. No doubt you would have learned one day when the Healers diagnosed you with scallyoopus or some such sort." _

Since then, the two had been friendly. They often studied in the library together and discussed the finer points of literature and history. Ron and Harry had accepted him enough that he sometimes sat with them in the common room to do work, but it didn't happen often. They still hadn't gotten any further with their Quidditch plan, though Blaise was all for it, and it had only been a week since Harry thought of it.

After nearly an hour of work, Blaise sat up and stretched. With her nod of permission, he compared their two charts.

"Good, we got the same thing. So, hopefully, we're not far off."

"At least we'll be wrong together," she offered. He grinned and checked his watch. "Time for lunch?"

"Yeah. I should probably find Draco in whatever corner he's wedged himself in and drag him down to eat." He finished rolling his parchment and started putting books in his bag.

"What's the deal with the two of you?" she blurted out, unable to stop herself. "I mean, no offense, but he's kind of an arrogant, prejudiced jerk."

"Et tu, Brute?" he said, softly and almost sadly.

"I'm sorry Blaise – it's just so hard… so hard to get over some of the things I saw them do. And it's hard to get over the fact that he's been nothing but an arse to me ever since we met. So it somewhat confuses me how someone as nice as you could spend so much time with… him."

"No, I understand Hermione. No harm done – I realize he hasn't exactly treated you decently over the years. And he can be… difficult to deal with if you haven't been well versed in his… unusual character. Hmm, where did it begin?"

He paused to consider. "He was the first person to be nice to me when I got here. So you learn to deal with people's quirks after seven, eight years. Yeah, he has a lot of faults, but who doesn't?" He paused again, but this was more of a hesitation than anything. "He was always there in the worst times of my life – not always making them _better, _but making them not as bad. It's my… duty, you could say, to help him through the worst part of his." Being Blaise, he tried to lighten the mood. "We Slytherins don't like being in debt, despite how many times Draco reassures me I owe him nothing."

"Huh. I never thought about it like that."

"Well, now you have. So I'll just toddle off to track down my faulty friend. I'll probably see you at lunch, Hermione."

"See you, Blaise." Hermione sat at the desk a little while longer, digesting what he had told her. She realized that despite how she had urged Ron and Harry to accept the Slytherins, she hadn't changed many of her own opinions. Sighing in confusion, she gathered her things. She had to eat before her first special potions class with Malfoy himself.

-O-O-O-O-

The potions classroom seemed odd without the benches full of students. Maybe it was also the lack of fumes wafting their way from wall to wall. Hermione awkwardly crossed her legs and bent down to retrieve her Potions book from her bag. The other occupant of the room ignored her, absorbed in his own thoughts, it seemed. Or else he was trying quite hard to bore a whole through the wall solely on the strength of his gaze. Malfoy had already been there when she had arrived, and she couldn't help but doubt Blaise's success at making him eat.

Slughorn burst through the door just as Hermione was beginning to line up her quills, smallest to longest. He saw the two of them sitting on opposite sides of the room, and his kindly face fell.

"Well, this won't do. This won't do at all! How are the two of you supposed to work together if you're acting like the other is about to hex you?"

Hermione heard Malfoy mutter something that sounded distinctly like, "I don't know that she won't." She frowned, and stalked across the room to plop herself next to him. He looked at her in surprise and she smiled sweetly at Professor Slughorn.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I was just thinking about what we were going to learn today and got distracted." She definitely heard the snort that came from her left.

"It's alright, Miss Granger. Now that that's settled, how about we start, eh? I thought we could begin with a little _competition_, just so you know what the other is made of. I'm assigning you both a Wiggenweld Potion, which I'm sure you know is the antidote to the Draught of Living Death. Winner receives fifty points and a favor from the loser." Slughorn grinned – a little too wickedly, in Hermione's opinion – and sent them on their way.

Hermione sprang up and, grabbing her textbook, ran to the ingredient cupboard. She returned to find her competitor still reading over the ingredients and instructions. When he finally returned from the closet, Hermione had already begun browning her luffwump spleens. Seeing that the next ingredient was powdered crows beak, she grinned. One of the notes in Malfoy's book had said that one could replace crow beak with dried squid ink for better results. Glancing slyly at her old enemy, Hermione saw he was still slicing spleens. She quickly added a scoop of black powder to her cauldron.

An hour later, Hermione was staring at her cauldron in dismay. It wasn't that her potion was a disaster – it was fine. But that was the problem – it was merely _fine_. She glanced over at her classmate, who was dropping the last of his gillyweed extract into his cauldron. While her potion bubbled, his was leaping about with such energy that the liquid was just barely contained by the rim of his cauldron. Where her potion was a perfectly agreeable shade of blue, his was such a startling shade of cerulean it almost hurt to look at.

Slughorn, who had been grading papers while they worked, sensed the lack of activity and looked up.

"Well, let's see how these turned out, shall we?" He came over to inspect both cauldrons. "Very well done, both of you. However, I believe that Mr. Malfoy's potion is a tad more complete than Miss Granger's. Fifty points to Slytherin." Malfoy took the award with a nod of thanks. Slughorn waved his wand, and both potions bottled themselves and flew to his desk. The two students packed up and were just about to leave when Slughorn stopped them.

"What about your favor, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco scowled, and Hermione shrunk a little. She was sure he couldn't help it, but he looked almost exactly like his father when he was like that.

"Perhaps later, Professor. I can't think of anything at the moment." He left the classroom and Hermione followed.

The two of them both had Charms, and it would be strange to not walk together since they had the same destination. The silence stretched between them, and Hermione could swear she heard Malfoy let out a sigh of relief when they reached the classroom. Just before she walked to her seat, the blond cleared his throat.

"Sometimes there are things that don't need changing," he muttered, with a slight smirk, and walked away to his seat. Hermione stared after him, stunned. The only thing she could think of him referring to was her potion, but she was quite sure he hadn't been watching when she had added that squid ink. Frustrated, she blew a stray hair out of her face. Was he _patronizing_ her? Blaise was right, she thought as she sank onto on of the classroom chairs. Not everyone was equipped to handle that mysterious, _arrogant_ blond prat.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters etc. It is all JkR. **

The wind whipped along the pathway and scattered the leaves, sending their drying husks skittering across the stone. It was now officially November – the Halloween feast had been two nights earlier – and Draco was officially annoyed. He scowled and drew his cloak closer to him, making his slow, arduous way to Greenhouse Three.

Apparently when Slughorn had said that Draco and Granger would be working on some fiddly potions, he had _meant_ that they would be working on a potion that needed to simmer, untouched, for two weeks and in the meantime they would obtain ingredients for his first year's upcoming lesson. Hence this little fieldtrip to see if Professor Sprout's jumpluff beans had sprouted yet. He glanced over at Granger – for some reason unknown to him, she had chosen to walk at his pace, despite the fact they didn't speak much – and his scowl deepened. She looked disgustingly cheerful, unruly hair whipping about, cheeks red, and actual spring in her step.

"What are _you_ so happy about?" he finally growled, unable to help himself. Thought it had never been made official, as he had done with Potter, the two of them had an uneasy, unspoken truce. He didn't call her names, and if he was a little curt, well, he was sharp with nearly everyone in the school. She in return was civil to him – not trying to dig into his past like the rest of the idiotic prats in this place. They occasionally walked together between mutual classes, and every so often engaged in small talk about school and work, even going so far as to meet in the library to work on a Transfiguration assignment they had been partnered for.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," she replied, right before she took up humming.

"Granger!"

"_Fine_. My parents sent me a letter saying we were going to Italy over Christmas holiday."

"How exciting."

"Well, of _course_ it is! I've never been to Italy before. Have you?" Alright, sometimes she pried, but it was never anything personal that he hadn't shared before.

"Of course." He wasn't really in the mood to talk, and he somewhat regretted initiating conversation.

"Well, where did you go?" He sometimes wondered if she just forgot she was in the presence of an ex-Death Eater who's familial home had been her prison.

"We visited family in Milan. Distant cousins. Didn't get around to much sightseeing, but we did get to fly around the countryside a bit. It's nice there." Hopefully this would shut her up. But she kept talking about her plans and where she was going.

Honestly – he had been somewhat polite for a few months, and she felt she could ignore eight years of bad history. Draco let out a sigh of relief as the greenhouse came into view. At last – a respite from her nattering about those Muggle artists, though a few of the names she mentioned were actually wizards.

The way back – the beans had indeed sprouted, and the two of them were levitating the pots in front of them – was once more punctuated by her chattering. Draco had to answer a total of seven questions on the way back to the Potions classroom. He didn't understand it – was she a nervous talker, or did she actually think he cared? It was no small relief when they reached Slughorn's room and he dismissed them early. At least he wouldn't have to make the walk to Charms with her as well.

-O-O-O-O-

Thursday's lunch was bangers and mash. Draco poked at his sausages – he usually quite enjoyed them, but he just wasn't in the mood to eat. Normally, the simple food would have provided the ultimate comfort in the wild November storm that had swept in, but the damp had gotten to his leg and cut his appetite. He saw Daphne Greengrass watching him out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. She suddenly leaned across the table and pulled his plate away. He glanced up, startled.

"You weren't going to eat it," she defended herself. "Anyway, Draco, I have a favor to ask." A favor. Granger still owed him a favor from that Potions class. He still hadn't figured out what to ask for, but doubted he would ever get around to it.

"Mmm. What's up?"

"Well, you're obviously pretty good at Potions, since you're in Slughorn's special class. And, well, Astoria's been having some trouble with the class. She scraped by on her OWLs, but she wants to be a Healer. Could you tutor her?" He was a little surprised that Astoria knew what she wanted to do, and that it was something so practical, but, then again, she had never fit the profile of the average wealthy pureblood.

"Yeah, Daph. Sounds good." An owl interrupted his thought as it landed where his lunch had been, moments before. Odd – mail usually came at breakfast, not lunch. Unless… Yes – he recognized the seal on the envelope – the scale and wand, overlapping. The Wizengamot. "Hold on – I have take this. We'll talk later, yeah?" he muttered, flustered.

"Of course." She had seen the seal – she knew what it meant. Hastily untying the heavy parchment, Draco shoved away from the table. Blindly, he fled the Great Hall, trying to think of a place where he could read the note in private. _The common room_. Everyone would be at lunch – he would have at least a few minutes to himself.

The founders seemed to sense his urgency and asked him nothing more than, "Password?", and then he was sitting down in blessed silence on one of the couches, shaking fingers opening the envelope.

_To Whom It May Concern: _

_ c.c. Mr. Draco L. Malfoy_

_The Wizengamot informs you that the trial for Mr. Lucius A. Malfoy will take place on Thursday, the 12__th__ of November. Mr. Malfoy will be tried before a jury of 21 Wizengamot members for fraternization with the Death Eater organization, use of the Unforgivable Curses, use of various other illegal Dark Arts, ownership of various illegal Dark artifacts, breach of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, and various crimes against humanity. The trial will be presided over by the Honorable Justine F. Klempington. _

_As a member of Mr. Malfoy's immediate family, you are ineligible to act as a witness. As a member of Mr. Malfoy's immediate family, you may meet with Mr. Malfoy on Wednesday, the 11__th__ of November, for a period of time not exceeding three hours. _

_Please direct any questions towards Mr. Albert Newcomb, Wizengamot Public Relations. _

_Sincerely, _

_Flora Marst_

_Secretary-in-Chief, Wizengamot_

Draco heaved a sigh of relief – they hadn't sentenced Lucius yet. He had heard the Wizengamot had had a full trial and sentenced Ardus McKinian to life in Azkaban without informing the man's family until a month after the appeal date. And he had heard of the judge – she was rumored to be one of the more unbiased ones still left. Even so, she had probably been hearing Death Eater trials since June. That was bound to shift the bias, one way or the other.

He looked at his watch and swore. Not at the time – he was still firmly in the lunch block – but at the date. They had given him a week to prepare a defense for his father. He summoned parchment and quill to scribble a quick note to his mother. He could only do so much, being stuck at school, and she would know what to do. Sometimes he hated having come back to school, because Narcissa would have to face situations like this alone.

Having finished the note, he flung open the portrait door and almost tripped coming out, running into two sturdy bodies. Cursing his clumsiness, he mumbled a quick thanks and apology rolled into one. He barely noticed it was Potter and his red-haired friend who had caught him before he pushed past them and made his way to the Owlery as quickly as his knee would let him.

A small bubble of hope dared show itself as he watched Daedalus wing away over the Forbidden Forest. His mother would, hopefully, find a defense counselor who would do their job regardless of their opinion of Lucius Malfoy. Even if Lucius ended up doing time in Azkaban, it would probably be a good deal less than most because he had a family to provide for.

The same family he had been protecting against Voldemort's threats by doing the horrific things he had. And Draco had to admit that Lucius had only twice done something worse than Imperio and the occasional Crucio. It wasn't much, but it might be enough.

-O-O-O-O-

The next morning at breakfast was a more painful ordeal than usual. The _Daily Prophet_ always published a list of upcoming Death Eater trials so the public could keep track of the going-ons of the Wizengamot. They rarely, however, published the results of the trials, unless there was a surprise ruling. The whispers and stares seemed to have multiplied by a hundred-fold, and Draco kicked himself mentally for not remembering about the paper and eating in the kitchens.

He idly wondered if this would increase or assuage the anger of those unknown students who lashed out at him in the dark corridors. It was stupid of him, really, to wander the halls, alone, at night, but he couldn't help it. He didn't dare tell Blaise lest his friend think he was some sort of masochist. And it wasn't that he enjoyed the pain – it was just that he knew that other students needed to release their anger and frustration, and he was the convenient target. Plus, it somewhat relieved the guilt he carried for the pain he had caused, even if he hadn't done it personally.

At least it was Friday, though. He just had to get through the day, and then it would be the weekend and he could think of what to do about his father.

Finally becoming fed-up with the constant stares and whispering, Draco decided to just arrive a little early to Charms. Alright, half an hour early, but it was better than sitting with these nattering dunces.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed. I don't really like the last bit, but I kindof needed a filler part so the chapter wasn't, like, 1,000 words long. OH well… You know the drill, though – click the little review button below! Thanks! **

**Also, many thanks to Madame Lure for keeping me writing. Don't know what I would do without her reminders that Wednesday is only a few days away :-)**


	13. Chapter 13

**DISCLAIMER: Nothing recognizable is mine. Es muy triste… **

Monday mornings were the worst. Even Hermione's eagerness to learn was dampened by her drooping eyelids and her body's message of _Why did you leave your nice warm bed, you idiot?_ Judging by the sleepy looks on Ron and Harry's faces, Hermione could only assume that they too agreed with her. She had giggled when Ron first came down to eat – his hair was even worse than Harry's, sticking up in every direction like a fiery halo.

Remembering that Transfiguration was the first class of the day, Hermione reached over and poured herself a large cup of coffee. Usually she avoided the stuff and stuck with tea, but she needed the caffeine kick that only coffee, strong and black, could provide. The smell alone woke her up some – the house elves' coffee was almost stronger than Madame Pomfrey's Pepper-Up potion, and Hermione was quite sure that it could have been used to wake up the Petrified victims six years earlier.

"Can you pour some of that for me, Hermi-i-ione?" Ron asked, around a huge yawn, pushing another mug towards her. She did just that, and then poured a cup for Harry, who was currently staring grumpily at his eggs. Pushing it towards him, she grabbed a muffin with her other hand and proceeded to transfer pieces of pastry from her fingers to her mouth. It never ceased to amaze her how consistently delicious the house-elves' dishes were.

Once her breakfast was done, Hermione levered herself out of her chair and made her way back to the common room. The boys would take a little longer to eat, but the Great Hall was getting a little noisy and Hermione had left her books in her room. Stepping through the portrait, she was surprised to see a familiar blond head bent over a folder, scribbling furiously. She had barely seen Malfoy all weekend – she had asked him a question about an essay for Potions, but he had seemed distracted by something and only barely answered, leaving her to root through the library by herself. Not that she had minded, going through the library. It was just so much easier to ask him –

Oh. Was this what it felt like for Ron and Harry, always having her to help them? She felt a little bad for the times when she hadn't given them the help they wanted, but then remembered that it was very doubtful they would ever enter Madame Pince's sacred domain unless they didn't have a choice. And Hermione just couldn't let someone go through their life without learning the resourcefulness and beauty of the rows of shelving that had answers to almost every question imaginable.

"Morning, Malfoy," she called as she picked up her bag. He jumped and slammed the folder closed.

"Oh, er, morning to you too, Granger. Is it time for class already?"

"No, you have a few minutes to finish whatever you were doing. What _were_ you doing, anyway?" She knew it was none of her business, but she couldn't help but try and be nice to him. The last few months in his Potions class had proved to her that he could be polite and relax enough to talk about more than just school. Though she still didn't really trust or like him, she didn't _dis_like him either.

"It's nothing," he bit out, brusquely. "None of your business, anyway." There was something tight and breakable in his jaw and his eyes when he said this, and Hermione knew better than to push him. Sometimes she caught loosening up, but this morning was just not going to be one of those days.

"Alright. I'll see you in class then." Trying not to look like she was too much of a hurry to get away from him, she hastily scrambled through the portrait. Hermione was always wary of him when he got testy. It wasn't _him,_ exactly, it was just that he reminded her of his father when he was like that. And Lucius Malfoy was not exactly someone she wanted to spend more time then she already had with.

-O-O-O-O-

McGonagall's first period Transfiguration class trudged out of the classroom. Even Hermione had a ache flirting around her temples, making it hard to concentrate on anything in particular, and she wondered how some of her other classmates felt. The professor had assured them all that they would eventually get the hang of changing inorganic matter into organic, but even Hermione had difficulty grasping the concept.

She had been able to make the cord of her computer mouse turn into a live rat's tail, but the rest of the plastic remained, stubbornly, plastic. And they were supposed to be able to do much more complex things then turning computer mice into rats by the end of the year. _And_ there was still another period to go until lunch. Normally, Hermione was able to control her Ron-like tendency for always wanting food, but this class had been hard work and she wasn't sure if she would be able to focus on Charms.

Still… she had ten minutes until her next class, and the house-elves sometimes left snacks out for the students in case they were hungry.

"Hey, Ron, I'm going to go grab something to eat from the Great Hall. Do you want me to get you anything before Charms?" At the mention of food, the distant, tired look in Ron's eyes disappeared.

"Really, Hermione? That would be great. Here, I'll bring your bag to Charms so you don't have to carry it – oof, that's heavy." Well, he _had_ offered to carry it. "Thanks Hermione!" She chuckled, and sent him on his way. Really, why had she even asked? Of course he would want food – he was Ronald Weasley.

Free from her encumbering schoolbag, Hermione quickly made her way to the Great Hall. Going down the main stairway, she froze. There, in the entrance hall, stood Narcissa Malfoy. She was looking better than she had in Diagon Alley, but Hermione could tell she was still too thin, and that the upright posture was as much from trying to look strong as from habit.

The blond woman looked up expectantly, having heard footsteps, but her indifferent expression did not change when she saw that it was Hermione.

"Ms. Granger," she said, her tone as expressionless as her face. "I hope you are well."

"I… I am, Mrs. Malfoy. And you?" Hermione had no idea how to respond to the woman who had quite possibly saved the wizarding world by lying about Harry's death.

"Well enough, I suppose." Hermione once again began to descend the marble steps. Then something changed in Narcissa's voice, which made Hermione pause once more. "Ms. Granger… I must apologize for what you had to endure during the last year. I can only hope that you understand the circumstances, and that you can forgive me for my part in what happened."

Hermione was stunned. Never had she thought that she would actually encounter the lady of the manor where she had been imprisoned and tortured, nor had she thought that the same woman who had sneered at her for years would unbend enough to actually apologize. She gazed at Narcissa in ungraceful, open-mouthed shock. Finally, she found the only appropriate thing to say.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I believe that we all did things during the War that we regretted. And I know that, for you at least, you were just trying to protect your family. I don't blame you for that. And I can't – not after everything you did to save us." A small smile appeared on the blond woman's face when Hermione was done talking, and her face seemed to soften as tension drained out.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. I am glad there is a new generation willing to start fresh. After all, your year will be future– "

"Mother?" Surprised by the interruption, the two women whirled around. With a look of shock on his face, Malfoy limped out of the doorway and into the arms his mother flung around him. Hermione couldn't believe that even the heartfelt and emotional reunion between the two blondes looked graceful and poised.

"What are you doing here?" the younger Malfoy asked, still looked a bit bewildered.

"I'm going to speak with the Headmistress," his mother replied crisply, "about next week. You will come home on Wednesday so we can get everything in order. And you need to get new dress robes – your old ones are too baggy, it doesn't look proper."

Malfoy had straightened up during his mother's matter-of-fact speech, though he was frowning slightly. Hermione was astounded by how quickly the two shifted from polite conversation to reunion to business-like planning. She shifted awkwardly, unsure of her place in the conversation.

"Well, it was nice to speak with you, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione finally decided to leave the two alone. "Perhaps we'll see each other again soon." Narcissa Malfoy turned and nodded to her.

"Yes, Ms. Granger," came the calm and poised response. "If you will excuse us." The two Malfoys walked away together up the main stairs and Hermione sped to pick up Ron's snack and get back to class.

"What took you so long?" Ron asked as she handed him his muffin.

"I… ran into Mrs. Malfoy." He choked and Harry had to clap him on the back.

"What?"

"Yeah, it was really weird. She was coming to speak to Professor McGonagall about something."

"Hmm…" Harry mused. His thoughts were interrupted by Flitwick's entrance into the classroom to begin the lesson. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the younger Malfoy that she had seen earlier was absent from the class. How curious.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed! A little short, but it's kindof a filler chapter to get to the real schtuff in the next one. Trying to keep ahead in my writing, but it's hard with school and what not. Margh physics… thanks for reading! **

**Also, thanks to MADAME LURE for keeping me writing. Don't know what I would do without her. **


	14. Chapter 14

**NOTE: All recognizable characters etc. belong to one JK Rowling. **

_Draco sat next to his mother in the cold, stone benches that had been provided for them. Beneath the flickering light of candles and Patronuses, he could vaguely make out witches and wizards in long, dark robes. A gavel strike brought the assembly to order. _

_ "Wizengamot, have you made your decision?" A booming voice rolled through the room. There were murmurs of assent, and then the rustling of paper, as though a scroll was being opened. _

"_I see." An ominous snicker rose and fell. "Lucius Malfoy will enjoy the Kiss and the fine accommodations at Azkaban prison." The sniggering started up again, and somewhere to Draco's right, a door was flung open. He winced at the light that streamed through, but they were quickly closed. He felt a chill pass through him as the dementors brought his father to the chair that sat in the middle of the room. _

_Draco blinked in confusion. His father looked… just like his father always had. He was sitting straight, his long hair perfectly combed back, and look of sheer boredom on his face. _

"_Any last words for your father?" The disembodied voice asked._

"_Father, I – " He was interrupted by his father's sneering drawl. _

"_Draco, you fool. Do you think I actually care if you're here or not? Or, I'm sorry, did you have a moment of foolish feelings where you wanted to come _support_ me in my hour of _desperation_?" The tirade continued until the dementors gave up waiting and swooped in. Before Draco's eyes, Lucius withered. The dementors only let off of him when there was nothing left but drying skin stretched over the frames of Lucius' bones. _

"_Take him away." The dementors dragged the pile of bones off of the chair and glided out of the room, slamming the door behind them. _

Draco woke up shaking. It was still dark, and he could hear the peaceful snores of his roommates through the curtains. He had been having these dreams ever since he had gotten the letter about Lucius' trial. He slipped out of his bed and padded noiselessly towards the bathroom. Turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat up, he pulled his sweaty shirt over his head and divested himself of the rest of his pajamas.

The water beat a soothing tattoo against his scalp and he felt the trembling leave his limbs as it washed over him. He stood there for a long time with his eyes shut, trying to clear his head of what was going to happen today. Finally, Draco exited the tub and wrapped himself in the plain white towels the house elves left by the door. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he lowered his head to his hands.

"Snap out of it, Draco," he said aloud to the empty room. Feeling slightly foolish, he went to get dressed and pack a bag for the night. Glancing back at the slight tinge of dawn passing through the windows, Draco left the common room.

-O-O-O-O-

Narcissa had finally gotten rid of the hideous Oriental carpet that sat in the parlor. Draco knew this because there was nothing to cushion his knees as he stumbled out of the fireplace and fell onto the flagstone. He crawled around until he located his cane and scrabbled to his feet, glancing around. He smiled slightly at the sight – his mother had obviously been busy. The old wooden walls had been painted white and she had replaced the heavy oaken furniture with something light and slender.

"Mother?" he called out as he walked through the hallway. "I'm home!" Had it really only been a few months since he had last been here? Absorbed in his thoughts, Draco didn't notice the patter of footsteps as his mother ran down the hall and crashed into him in a flurry of open arms and blond hair. Caught off guard, he stumbled and landed on his bad leg, which gave way beneath him. For the second time that day, Draco found himself groping around for his cane and hauling himself to his feet before he reached down to pull the lady of the manor up.

"Mother!" he said half-laughing, "What has you in such a tizzy?" He instantly sobered when he saw her reddened eyes and pale cheeks. "Oh, Mother…"

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said shakily. "I don't know what to _do_. There's nothing I _can_ do! And I _know_ that everything will be fine, or at least I _want_ to know, but…" Her shoulders began to shake. Draco wrapped his arms around her thin ones and pulled her close.

"Shhh. It's going to be alright, Mother," he reassured her as he steered her towards the nearest chair. "I've heard good things about this judge – she's very fair."

"Yes, I _know_," she replied. "But, Draco, we _both_ know that your father did some things that were… that could make him eligible for Azkaban."

"I won't lie to you, Mother," came the somber reply, "there is a very good chance that Luc- that Father will go to prison. But," he continued as his mother began to shake again, "_but_ I don't think that he will spend _much_ time." At that, Narcissa wiped her eyes and straightened up.

"You're right, Draco. Well, your new dress robes are in your room – I need you to try them on so the elves can tailor them properly." He nodded, unsurprised at his mother's sudden transition into brisk and businesslike.

"Welcome home, son," she added, smiling up at him. He bent down to place a kiss on her forehead before making his way to his room.

-O-O-O-O-

The bench had a loose screw that was digging relentlessly into Draco's leg. He sighed in boredom and shifted his hand slightly in his mother's rigid grasp. The soft murmur of voices hummed in his ears and he could feel a slight headache start to pound at his temples. Sighing again, he closed his eyes and went over the meeting that he had been to the previous day.

_Lucius looked surprisingly well for having spent the last few months locked away. When Draco and Narcissa had walked into the meeting room, he slowly rose and walked over to them to embrace them both. _

"_Be careful what you say," he whispered. "I'm sure you know they'll be watching." Draco's eyes narrowed. Even now Lucius was putting his own wellbeing above his family's comfort. Or, perhaps in his own twisted way, he was trying to protect them. Whatever – he just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. _

"_Narcissa… I hope you have been well." _

"_As well as expected, Lucius. And I see you have held up well." _

"_Of course." An awkward silence filled the space between the three. _

"_Father, about tomorrow," Draco began. _

"_I'm taking the Veritaserum." His father's flat voice cut through his thought. Narcissa gasped. _

"_Lucius, are you sure?" _

"_Cissy…" Draco frowned – he had rarely heard his father be that gentle with his mother, certainly never in public. "Narcissa – I have nothing left except you. I do not need others doubting my word, and they won't see my stain the family honor any more. There can be nothing that I hide if I expect to be with you." _

"_Of course." And then Narcissa crumpled into her husband's arms, gripping his cloak as tears streamed down her face. And Draco watched in shock as his father did not push her away. Instead, he pulled her closer and whispered into her hair something that Draco couldn't hear. Wanting to give them space, he looked at his toes and scratched his neck as Narcissa straightened and wiped her eyes. "Of course, Lucius."_

_They held each other for a few moments more before Lucius turned towards his son and heir. _

"_Draco." _

"_Yes, Father?" He addressed his shoes._

"_Take care of your mother." _

"_Of course, Father." They needed polishing. He would have to do it tonight, before the trial tomorrow._

"_And, Draco?"_

"_Yes, Father?" Yes, definitely in need of a good coat of polish. _

"_Be good." _

"_Of course, Father." _

_A final embrace and a lingering look between the husband and wife before Draco and Narcissa swept out of the room. _

And now they were out in the hall, waiting for the verdict. Seeing Lucius under the effects of the Truth Potion had been hard for Draco – his normally proud and stern father was strapped to a chair in front of the jury and babbling his secrets to strangers. He had felt his mother's shaking for the whole of the trial, and now that they were simply waiting for the results, her stillness seemed even worse, somehow.

"M-M-Mrs. Malfoy?" a stuttering Ministry official emerged from the courtroom where the trial had been. "Th-the jury has s-spoken. If you are r-ready to hear the r-results?"

Draco shot a condescending look at the man before pushing himself to his feet and offering his arm to his mother. She took it gratefully, though took pains not to look it, and they made their way back to the courtroom. It was still full of people who had come to watch the trial, and Draco felt a rush of anger at their nosy, petty interest.

The only Ministry official in the room, besides the guards stationed to keep an eye on the prisoners, was the judge. She held a sealed scroll in her hand and had a grave look on her face. Seeing that the two blondes had entered the room, she motioned them to stand behind Lucius as they awaited his judgment.

"I will hereby read the verdict of the jury and determine what will become of this decision." She broke the seal on the envelope and read the writing on it. "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, the jury has found you guilty of fraternizing with the Death Eater organization, use of various illegal Dark Arts and breach of the International Statue of Wizarding Secrecy." Draco felt something drop in his stomach – though he had mentally prepared himself, it still was not the same. He felt his mother lean into him even more and braced himself on his cane to keep them both from falling over.

"Mr. Malfoy, these accusations could land you a life sentence in Azkaban Prison. However, due to your willingness to cooperate with the Wizengamot and the Ministry, I have decided to sentence you to ten years in Azkaban prison, with a chance of parole after five, depending, of course, on your behavior. This court is adjourned."

Draco heard an angry buzzing from the audience as they heard this proclamation, but he ignored it as he felt the relief flow through his veins. He saw his mother move to embrace his father out of the corner of his eye, and he ran his hand through his hair as the tension drained out of him. Lucius could walk in five years – assuming he behaved – which was nothing compared to what some of his fellows would be serving. He was so giddy he could have joined his parents in a hug.

The room slowly emptied and one of the guards approached and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, marm, but I'm afraid it's time to take Mr. Malfoy here."

"Just one moment more, Bryson?" The guard gave a curt nod at Lucius' request. "Narcissa, do you remember what I told you that night when the Dark Lord came?" She nodded silently. "And do you remember what I told you the first night after our wedding?" Another nod. "I need you to remember that. Promise me you will?"

"Of course, Lucius, of course. How could I forget?" She smiled up at him through her tears.

"Draco." His head jerked up in surprise. "Draco, when you get home, there are some documents I need you to read through. My desk, left side, there's a compartment behind the bottom drawer." Draco nodded before he felt his father's arms wrap around him. "I'm so proud of you, son. Don't forget that. _Ever_."

The sudden lump in his throat prevented Draco from doing any more than nod and wrap his own arms around his father's sturdy frame.

-O-O-O-O-

The common room was dark and quiet. Draco crept through the portrait and flung himself onto an armchair near the still-flickering fire. Loosening the tie that went with his dress robes, he draped it over the back of the seat and gazed into the fireplace.

He had left his mother curled up in her huge bed – a bed meant for two – after ministering a dose of Dreamless Sleep and instructing the house elves to watch her. She looked fragile and calm, with her pale hair spread over the pillowcase and her red eyes hidden by fair lashes.

Needing to get away from the temptation of his father's liquor cabinet, Draco had Flooed back to McGonagall's office. She had been up, waiting for him, but perhaps the expression on his face persuaded her not to ask any questions aside from the results of the trial.

So now he was back in the common room, not feeling particularly tired and with the mysterious document of his father's. Knowing it would nag him all night. Pushing aside the packet from the Ministry about parole rights, he opened the sealed scroll and ignored the small envelope that fell out. His eyes zoomed over the opening lines, "_Herein is contained the last Will and Testament of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy…" _

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed! It was a little long, so let me know if I packed way too much in and didn't get to explain things enough. Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed (cough cough, hint hint, cough). Madame Lure, DragonMaster 65, and Mother Midnight. You guys rock! **

**P.S. Fanfiction will be the reason I fail out of US. Yay essays! (naaht!) **


	15. Chapter 15

**NOTE: I don't own anything! I hope you enjoy! **

**Also: heads up – there is a wee bit of bad language in this chapter. Sorry 'bout that. **

"Mmmh," Hermione moaned as a cold, wet _something_ prodded her ear. "Crookshanks, stop it!" A somewhat disgruntled mew was her only response as a small paw poked her mouth. "Crookshaaanks!" Another meow.

"Fine," she mumbled as she threw back her covers, scooping up her cat. The autumnal chill that hung in the castle cast goose pimples onto her skin, and she shivered. "I don't know what this is about, good sir, but I am informing you that I am _not _happy with the situation." Crookshanks, content that someone was paying attention to him, ignored her grumpy dialogue and purred into her chest as she fumbled for some clothing. The rest of the dorm was silent, and Hermione peeked behind one of the curtains to discover that it was not yet dawn.

"Are you happy, Crookshanks? I don't know _what_ you needed me to get out of bed so early for, but I can assure you that your actions are _not_ very much appreciated." Still grumbling, Hermione slid her feet into her slippers and padded towards the common room. Setting her cat on the floor, she yawned and stretched before she ambled towards the fireplace, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Finally getting all the sleep out of the corners, Hermione drew up short. She stared curiously at the sight before her.

Draco Malfoy was sprawled in one of the armchairs by the fire, fast asleep. There were piles of papers, stacked none too neatly, on the table in front of him and another in his lap. A few lay on the floor where they had obviously fallen from his limp arm that was draped over the arm of the chair.

Silently, she stole over to the chair and bent down to retrieve his fallen parchment. Just as she was coming back up, she noticed something that nearly made her heart stop before it began beating wildly in her chest. The black brand on his arm was all too familiar to Hermione, and she wondered how she had not noticed it yet this year.

_Of course – a Concealment Charm. He isn't stupid. _Trying to calm her pounding heart, she looked down at the papers she held in her hands. There were lots of numbers and percentiles; interest rates both compound and annual, and strange notations that didn't make any sense. It certainly wasn't Arithmancy, and once Hermione flipped the page over, she realized that these were the accounts of the Malfoy Estate. She gulped – some of the numbers had been _very_ large.

_Why would he have these? Don't they have some sort of… wizarding accountant or something? _Her natural curiosity only heighted, she moved to put the accounts down and inadvertently (of course) scanned some of the other papers that lay strewn about the table.

Most of them were legal documents, with many from the Ministry. There were papers on visitation rights, steps to obtain parole, prisoner rights –

"Granger, what the _bloody hell _do you think you're _doing_?"

Hermione gave a small shriek and whirled around at the rusty voice that interrupted her prying. Malfoy was glaring at her from his seat in the armchair. His slightly reddened eyes gleamed in the firelight, a spot of color in his pale face.

"Umm, Malfoy. I was just, umm, putting some of your papers back on the table. You had dropped some."

"Mm. I see." His expression was one of ghastly calm. "Yes, I see. You were just doing this _kind _deed so you could start _bloody snooping _into my _bloody private business_!" His voice rose to a shout. She quailed slightly under his glare.

"Well, I wouldn't… I wouldn't call it _snooping_, exactly…"

"Then exactly _what_, Granger, _were_ you doing?"

"I was, umm… Well…"

"Whatever, Granger. I really don't care at the moment. If you want to read my bloody stuff, read it." He thrust the papers in his hand at her. "_Read it_, Granger."

His tone brooked no argument, and Hermione reached with shaking fingers to pull the page from his cold ones. Malfoy watched her from above the purple shadows beneath his eyes as she scanned it. It was a court transcript of his father's trial, and she frowned as she read the lines of confession that marched across the paper.

"Are you quite happy, Granger, to learn what has been happening in my life?" Hermione just stared, mortified and ashamed, at the piece of yellow parchment in her hand. "God_damn_ it, Granger! Answer me!"

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I didn't know –"

"No, you didn't. And you didn't think to find out…" The rest of his words were cut off as Hermione fled the common room, dropping the court transcript as she barged through the portrait.

-O-O-O-O-

Harry found her huddled in the library a few hours later, where she had tried to calm herself down by reading a book. It seemed to be working slightly, as Hermione was no longer shaking.

"Hey, you," he said as he approached. "Have you been hiding up here this whole time?"

She turned and tried to smile, but felt her face crumple and tears start to form in her eyes.

"Hey, _hey_, Hermione," Harry's bright eyes widened in concern as he wrapped his arms around her once more quaking frame. "What's going on?"

"It's – It's nothing," she said between sobs. "It's just that I-_hic_-I came do-_hic_-own this morning because Crook-_hic_-shanks woke me up and Malf-_hic_-foy was there and I went through his pa-_hic_-apers and his father's in Azka-_hic_-ban and now he's mad at me and I feel ju-_hic-_ust _awful_, Harry. He had _hic_ been almost _nice_ to me and I had to-_hic_ go and do that."

Harry's arms had tightened almost imperceptibly when Hermione let out that Malfoy had been involved, but then loosened as he realized that the blonde hadn't done anything purposefully. He just held her and rubbed her back soothingly – it was a good thing he had had practice with Hermione and Ginny before, or else he would have been at a complete loss of what to do.

Just then, the familiar heavy footsteps sounded through the shelving and Ron appeared around the corner.

"_There_ you are, Hermione! We were looking for you!" he greeted jovially before realizing that she was crying. "What's wrong?" Hermione just shook her head and let Harry answer for her.

"Just a little misunderstanding between her and Malfoy, Ron." The 'little' did nothing to calm Ron's inevitable furious reaction.

"_What_?" he spat. "I should have known not to trust his little 'truce' he had going on. I think it's time I had a chat with that selfish, slimy _ferret_." He stormed out of the library.

It took Hermione and Harry a few seconds to register what Ron had said before they both jumped up with exclamations of protest.

"Ron, no – it's really alright –"

"C'mon, mate. Calm down – like Hermione said –"

But their entreaties fell on deaf ears as a wrathful Ronald Bilius Weasley stormed down to the Quidditch pitch where he had seen the object of his ire last headed with that Zabini boy. Hermione and Harry exchanged a slightly panicked glance before chasing after their titian friend.

-O-O-O-O-

The day was a perfect November example – the air was bright, cold and crisp and the sun shone benevolently over the school. Hermione's hair whipped in the wind as she struggled to keep up with Harry, who in turn struggled to stay somewhat close to his gangly friend. She was practically running as they entered the Quidditch stadium, and she shivered as they passed through the shadow of the entrance.

"Ron, come on now. This is ridiculous – he didn't mean anything by it. This has been quite a stressful time for him – " But her argument was lost as, once again, Harry and Ron pulled away.

Huffing and puffing, the trio came at last to the pitch, where two figures swooped through the air. Hermione took a moment to gaze up at them in wonder as Blaise passed the red ball to Malfoy (the Quiffle or whatever it was – she had tried to learn, but it had never stuck), who caught it before motioning to Blaise to do some maneuver of some sort. Blaise never got the chance because he was interrupted by Ron's furious bellowing from below.

"Malfoy!" he roared. "Malfoy, get your sorry arse down here this second, or I will come up there and bring you down myself." The two flyers slowly descended, and Malfoy awkwardly dismounted his broom, leaning on it as he gazed at Ron with a bored expression. His eyes flicked briefly to Hermione and Harry before returning to Ron's face with no hint of recognition in them for her.

"May I help you, Weasel – er, Weasley?"

"Yeah, you can apologize to Hermione for upsetting her, you sorry excuse for a human being," Ron snarled.

"Whatever for? If I remember correctly, _she_ is the one who owes _me_ an apology." Hermione saw Blaise moving towards Malfoy out of the corner of her eye, but she just stared in amazement at this seemingly insane person who remained cool and insulting as ever in the face of a wrathful Weasley.

"Why, you son of a –" And the next thing Hermione knew, Ron's fist connected with Draco's jaw while Blaise came, seemingly, out of nowhere to tackle his friend's attacker. Hermione shrieked and buried her head in Harry's sweater to avoid watching the melee unfolding before her.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed. I dunno – I didn't really like this chapter that much… A little cliché (not that I mind cliché at all) – might revise later. Meh – too much thinking makes my brain hurt. Whateva **

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed – you are AWESOME! **

**Until next week! **


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: The usual. **

**P.S. – sorry this is a little late. The week before last was the end of the quarter at my school, so there was a lot of work and I didn't have much time to write. Thanks for your patience! **

…

Stars exploded behind Draco's eyes as something sharp and _hard_ collided with his jaw. Remembering what his Uncle Rasbastan had taught him about fighting, he _rolled_ with the punch so that, though he would have one hell of a bruise, at least his jaw wouldn't be broken. Hopefully. That Weasel sure packed a powerful punch.

Unfortunately, his uncle had taught Draco how to lessen blows when he still had two cooperating legs. He spun out under the force of the hit before collapsing onto the cold ground of the Quidditch pitch. Rolling over, he saw that Blaise had tackled the Weasel while Granger huddled against Potter's chest.

The dark boy and the pale, freckled one were rolling on grass, each scrabbling to gain an advantage. Draco could only watch from his stunned position on the ground as his friend tussled with his one-time enemy. Finally, Blaise gained the upper hand and pinned down the Weasel. Though he was shorter, he was stockier and well nourished from the rich Italian foods he ate every summer.

"Weasley, calm down!" Blaise hissed into his opponent's face. "I don't know where the hell you learned your manners, but it's no wonder everyone calls you a fool." Weasley struggled weakly against the pinning arms before giving up and lying limply on the ground.

"Blaise," Draco said tiredly. "Blaise, get up."

"Draco, are you sure?"

"Yeah, Blaise. It's not worth it." He didn't know where this weariness came from, but he did know that all he wanted was to sink down into one of the armchairs in the common room and ask the house elves for an icepack. Even the small amount of flying he had done with Blaise had made his knee act up.

"Fine," Blaise sighed. Before getting off of Weasley, he spat out, "Don't you dare think of _thinking _to get up before we're well out of here." Weasley frowned stubbornly before Potter answered for him.

"You two better be quick then." The dark-haired boy wiggled out of Granger's grip and came over to Draco. He reached out his arm to help him up, but Draco just stared at it. He had no idea how to react – Potter should have been cheering on his fellow for bringing him down a notch, no matter what truce was between them.

"C'mon then," Potter cajoled as Draco hesitatingly stretched his arm out and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"See you later then, Potter," Draco said, with a small nod of gratitude that was returned. He leaned against his broom as Blaise moved to his side and the two of them made their way from the Quidditch pitch. As they left, Draco could have sworn he heard Granger mutter a small apology, but he ignored it, instead making sure that Blaise was all right after the tussle.

-O-O-O-O-

An hour later, his wish of an armchair and an icepack had been granted. Draco reclined into the soft cushions of his seat and tried to focus on his Potions assignment. Blaise had left to go for a walk with Pansy, and the rest of the eighth-years were enjoying one of the last beautiful days before the winter made it too cold to go outside for long.

The portrait opening interrupted his focus. He glanced up to see a wind-swept Potter enter the common room. The disheveled boy ran his hand through his unkempt hair a few times before he noticed Draco sitting there.

"Hey, Malfoy," he greeted.

"Potter."

"I'm just here to get a book." Draco ignored him. "Umm… Are you okay? I'm sorry about Ron getting out of control…"

"I've had worse, Potter. No harm done." Merlin but this was uncomfortable.

"Listen, um, I don't want to pry or anything, but what happened with you and Hermione? She felt really guilty, but she sometimes, well… she sometimes blames herself for things that aren't her fault." Draco raised a single eyebrow.

"I found her rifling through some of… my personal documents. Documents that I did not wish others to see. However, I was the one who left those documents lying about, and obviously misjudged the strength of… people's curiosity."

"Right." Another heavy silence descended over them. "So then, um, how are you holding up? Um, Hermione may have let slip that… um, about your dad." Draco knew he should feel some sort of anger at Granger for blabbing, or indignation at Potter's daring to pry, but he only felt a mild irritation under the tiredness that had descended over him.

"This, Potter, is exactly why I didn't want anyone reading through my things. It took a hell of a lot to keep that news out of the papers."

"So nobody knows?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well, _now_ people know." Potter had the decency to flush at this. "And I'm sure those Ministry bureaucrats were just oh so happy to let slip the news to their families. I suppose it was only a matter of time." He sighed heavily. "Now, Potter, if you don't mind, I have a paper to finish up."

"Oh, right, yeah. I'll… see you around then, Malfoy." Draco ignored Potter as he poked through some books and then lumbered out of the common room, presumably towards the lawns outside.

-O-O-O-O-

Dinner was a subdued affair. The Slytherins, of course, all knew about Lucius' sentence and seemed to be giving him space. Out of fear or respect, he couldn't say, though he hated the idea that even the people who had heard of all his failures as a Death Eater would fear him. Pansy and Daphne fussed over his bruised jaw and Blaise's black eye, but the two boys waved the fretting off with assurances to ice and put some of Mrs. Parkinson's special bruise balm on.

Their conversations drifted in different directions. Theo had brought up the subject of Quidditch again, so Blaise was having a hard time switching between making doe-eyes at Pansy and eagerly joining in the conversation.

Not particularly wanting a reminder of something he couldn't do any more, Draco turned to Daphne. It wasn't that he usually minded Quidditch talk; it was just that today's flying session with Blaise had struck home the fact that he couldn't really fly again. And Daphne was looking a little bored. She didn't have an attentive Blaise to talk to, so Draco supposed he would have to make do.

"So, Daph, you mentioned something the other day about Astoria and potions?"

"Oh, yes. Well, she did decently on her O.W.L.s, but she's worried that she won't be prepared for the more advanced N.E.W.T. potions."

"Right. And you said she wanted to become a Healer?"

"Yeah – I don't know _where_ it comes from, but she announced it this past summer." Daphne gave small, tinkling laugh. "Mum and Dad didn't know quite what to do, but she refused to even _consider_ getting married or anything until they gave in." Draco chuckled along with her – obviously Daphne's stubbornness was a familial trait.

"Well, I would be happy to tutor her."

"Thank you. If it seems like a waste of time, just let me know. I don't want you spending more time with her than you have to. For your sanity, of course." Draco chuckled again. It was times like these that he sometimes wished for a sibling – even an annoying one. He glanced around the table, but didn't see the younger Greengrass.

"Can you tell her to meet in the library tomorrow around four? I don't see her anywhere." Even with the nice conversation at the table, he rather wanted to get back to his armchair by the fire.

"Probably off with some of her Ravenclaw friends," Daphne said dismissively. "She eats with them sometimes."

"That's nice. So, you'll tell her?"

"Yeah. See you later, Draco." He nodded in response as he got up to leave. Making his way slowly out of the Great Hall, he didn't even notice the footsteps following him until he was yanked into an empty classroom. He groaned – this again.

Before he could get a look at who had pulled him in, he heard a whispered, "_Nox_," and the room went pitch black. Two sets of hands roughly grabbed him and held him still.

"Malfoy, I heard dear old dad got locked up in Azzy. _Quite _the pity you couldn't join him." A few snickers from the two holding him up. "Ah, well. I suppose it's up to us then, to make sure you learn your lesson."

He didn't know how long it was until they let him go, but it seemed quite late, if the empty halls and dark windows were anything to go by. He managed to get outside the classroom, but the stone wall felt traitorously comfortable against his back as he leaned against it. He lowered himself to the floor, still leaning against it.

Perhaps he would just close his eyes for a few minutes before making his way up to the dorms. Yes, that was quite a good idea. Just rest his eyes for a few minutes, he thought sleepily as he slumped forward. Just a few…

**Sooo…. I hope you enjoyed! Again, I'm really sorry for missing a week. Things were a little hectic, but I'll try not to do it again. (emphasis on the try – lo siento). **

**Anyhoo, let me know what you think! Thanks so much for all the reviews! **

**xoxo, GusGus **


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling… **

The sound of rustling papers and thumping books brought Harry Potter out of his Transfiguration homework-induced daze. He glanced over to where Hermione was sitting. At least, where she _had_ been sitting. Now he only saw the top of her hair as she muttered from underneath the table.

" – _know_ it was in here earlier…"

"Hermione?" She shot up so quickly she banged the top of her head on the desk. Wincing, she emerged to see Harry trying to hold back a grin. "You okay, Hermione?"

"Yeah. Hey, Harry – have you happened to see my Charms book anywhere? It's not in my bag…" She watched his face grow thoughtful.

"No, I haven't. Maybe Ron?"

"No, I don't think so…" She chewed her lip absentmindedly, trying to remember where on earth she could have left her book. She had had it out during lunch, but she definitely remembered putting it back in her bag. And then they went to Transfiguration, and after that Hermione had…

"The Ancient Runes classroom!" she crowed triumphantly. "I'll be right back, Harry."

"Oh, erm, right. Of course…" he mumbled in confusion as Hermione rushed out of the common room, leaving her notes and papers strewn across the table.

-O-O-O-O-

The hallways were deserted as Hermione clattered through them, her footsteps echoing from the stone ceilings. She didn't fear getting caught by Filch – she was an eight-year after all, and surely old enough to be trusted in the halls after curfew. There was a strange beauty to the empty, silent school at night, she mused, as she turned a corner. It was a little chilly, but as long as she hurried, she would soon be back in front of the common room fire.

Arriving at the Ancient Runes classroom without incident, Hermione lit her wand with a whispered "_Lumos._" The small light cast eerie shadows on the walls, but she was still grateful for it. After searching around, she found her book on the teacher's desk in the front of the classroom. There were a few other books and small knick-knacks that students had obviously forgotten, which Professor Babbling had thoughtfully placed there for them to find.

She poked through the pile to make sure that she hadn't left anything else behind. There was nothing of interest, so she made her way to the door with a small sigh of relief of having found her book. It was a good thing she would be able to get her work done tonight so she could go watch Harry and Ron play Quidditch the next day, a Sunday.

They had finally rounded up enough people to start their team, and had even unbent their stiff necks enough to let Blaise join in. Well, Ron had unbent, Harry having been willing enough from the beginning. Hermione supposed it would be fun to go watch them, though she would have to find someone to go with. Ginny would probably want to watch the game, but she could always watch _and_ talk with Hermione.

A noise in a nearby corridor brought Hermione's head whipping up. The War, and Moody, had drilled wariness into her that had yet to completely leave. She slowly raised her lit wand so it would cast light into the shadows of the hallway. Suddenly, the castle seemed more menacing and sinister than beautiful and peaceful.

She slowly eased forward as the noise sounded again. Finally, her light shone into the corridor and onto the squashed and disgruntled visage of Crookshanks. He mewed up at her as she let out a chuckle of relief.

"You scared me, Crookshanks," she scolded as she bent to pick him up. He gazed up at her with his great, golden eyes and let out another meow. "What are you doing out here, anyway?" He merely gave her a disdainful look for daring to question his important, feline business. She let out another small chuckle, and planted a kiss on his furry brow.

The two of them began making their way back to the common room. Crookshanks lost some of his loftiness about halfway through the journey and began to purr in her arms, the sound thrumming through her chest. Just as Hermione was approaching the Founder's portrait, he began to squirm in her arms, staring off into another hallway with a rapt look in his eyes.

"Alright, Crookshanks. Just make sure you don't get caught up with Mrs. Norris. I don't want to have to try and put anti-bacterial cream on your scratches again." He gave her one last look of scorn for her concern before trotting off into the echoing, empty hallways.

-O-O-O-O-

It wasn't long before Hermione was curled up with her Charms book as Harry and Ron engaged in a heated chess match. She looked up every once in a while to see Harry's face furrowed in concentration while Ron sported a much more relaxed countenance. She didn't play Ron much, since she had no head for chess tactics and he would awkwardly try to console her, not knowing she didn't much care if she won or not.

Though it was late, the common room was still quite full. The Slytherin girls, Lavender, and Padma all huddled in one of the corners, working on some sort of project. Blaise and the Nott boy were stretched in armchairs by the fire, idly chatting with each other, presumably over Quidditch.

The portrait entrance opened, and Hermione glanced up to see a tired looking Malfoy come into the common room. Still embarrassed by the spectacle that morning, she quickly returned to her book. She felt Ron shift uncomfortably beside her, before he decided to ignore Malfoy's presence and pretend he hadn't punched him in the face only hours before. A few minutes later, she felt Ron freeze beside her.

"Hermione, I don't supposed some sort of… of inbreeding would make Crookshanks go mad, would it?"

"What a silly question, Ron. Crookshanks isn't inbred. And he is very smart. So I don't think insanity is likely." She was still engrossed in her book. "Why do you ask?"

"You could look for yourself." Something in the strangled way he said it made Hermione jerk her chin up to look around the common room. She quickly found the familiar ginger fur on the lap of no other than Draco Malfoy.

He was sitting in one of the armchairs next to Nott, slumped over and staring unfocusedly into the fire. Crookshanks was curled up quite contentedly on his lap, and every few moments he would absentmindedly run an elegant hand over the cat.

Hermione stared in bemusement at the sight before her. Crookshanks was by no means a friendly animal. As a part-Kneazle, he had an innate sense of who to trust, and even the trust-worthy were not always deemed worthy of his attentions. He was friendly with Hermione, but that was after years of being together.

As though sensing someone looking at him, Crookshanks glanced up and gazed calmly across the room at her. Malfoy followed his stare and caught her looking at the two of them. A small quirk of his mouth might have been the beginnings of a smirk, but Hermione quickly returned her attention back to her book.

"How… odd," she managed to observe. Harry, in the meantime, took advantage of Ron's distraction and took out his knight with his own bishop. "Anyway, Ron, what time is Quidditch tomorrow?"

"Humm…" he didn't answer, he attention redirected to the chessboard. Harry helpfully supplied the answer.

"At eleven, so we'll have time to have breakfast and all."

"Alright then. I'm going to head to bed. I want to be rested up for the big game and whatnot." The boys distractedly murmured their good nights, and she made her way upstairs. The dorm was empty, and Hermione gratefully changed into her pyjamas before crawling beneath the covers.

She sighed contentedly at the cool sheets and wiggled around until she was completely comfortable. It was a good day to be over and done with, she decided, and childishly asked her subconscious to scrub the morning's events from her memory. Letting out a small giggle, she closed her eyes and willed herself to drift off into the sweet release of slumber.

…

**A/N: I bet you thought Hermione was going to stumble across dear ol' Draco in the hallway, weren't you? Hehehe – I was thinking that too, and then I realized that it would be far too blatant. And, besides, I don't want them to fall in love. **

**Thank you thank you thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! It means so much to me to know that people are reading and taking time to comment. All reviews are welcome, but if you have any (constructive) criticism, that is very much appreciated. **

**Until next time, **

**- GusGus **

**p.s. this is still Wednesday, but I usually update in the morning, so I apologize for any dashed hopes that may have occurred today. Hope this cheers you up! **


	18. Chapter 18

**Note: I do not own anything recognizable. All of HP is JK Rowling's. **

For the first time in a long time, a nightmare or his aching knee did not wake Draco. Instead, he was pulled into consciousness by the odd and sudden realization that there was something warm and heavy pressing into his chest. His hand reached up to brush something coarse and woolly that moved at his touch. Alarmed, he opened his eyes to see two amber orbs staring back at him. With a strangled swear, he surged backwards and hit the base of his skull on the headboard.

Wincing, and with some more muffled swearing, Draco looked again to see a massive cat sprawled majestically on his bedcovers. It was Granger's cat – he knew that much – though he had no idea what its name was. For some unknown reason, it had taken to him, curling up on his lap during some evenings when he sat by the fire in the common room. Never, however, had it come to sleep on his bed while he was occupying it.

He sat back more comfortably on the bed, leaning against the headboard that he had just bashed his own head against. Now that he had been exposed to the cooler air of his dormitory, his muscles began to tighten up and he winced as he settled back, feeling the bruises from his eventful walk back to the dorm the night before. The cat looked at him imperiously before rising and padding over to him. It lay down on his lap and pressed its warm, purring body into his chest. He relaxed under its affections and began to doze off once more. It was Sunday, after all – he could afford to sleep in, for once.

-O-O-O-O-

It was quite warm out, for a late November day. Still, it was cold enough that Draco shrugged on a cloak before heading down to the common room to meet Theo and Pansy. The three of them were going down to the Quidditch pitch to see Blaise play. It was only a small scrimmage between the eighth-years and a few seventh-years, but any excuse to enjoy the lingering sunshine was taken advantage of.

The three talked of light things, the state of schoolwork and Slytherin's chance of winning the House Cup – anything more serious would have brought up things that none of them wanted to discuss. They meandered slowly across the Hogwarts grounds, making their way towards the tall spires of the hoops. Pansy slipped her hand into Draco's as they approached the arched entrance and squeezed her reassurance as they passed through. Theo awkwardly walked along Draco's other side, not sure how to handle the delicate situation. Draco tried to simply pretend he was all right – that his chest didn't ache from the loss of his air-borne freedom.

"So, Theo. How's Thaddeus doing?" It was abrupt and rough, but anything was better than the tense silence that filled the air.

"Oh, erm. I think he's doing pretty well. Apparently he met some girl and wants to bring her back for the holiday for Dad to meet." Theo was quite close to his brother for all there was a seven-year gap between them.

"That's so nice," Pansy chimed in. "How did they meet?"

"He was on a trip to Greece, for his company, and I guess they met at a meeting. And then Thad has been back in Athens for the past three months – apparently they met up again. I guess they got to know each other pretty well."

Pansy sighed at the romance of it all, and Draco exchanged a wry look with Theo as they settled into their seats in the stands. They were the first people there, except for the players, and had their choice of where to sit.

"Theo, do you think your father will like her? Or will it be a Pyramus and Thisbe sort of thing? Oh, I _wish_ something like this would happen to me!" Draco chuckled at Pansy's romanticism and looked over to see Theo frowning thoughtfully at his hands.

"Yeah, he'll probably like her. I guess her family's pretty important back in Greece. 'Sides, I think Dad'll just be happy that he won't have to worry anymore about keeping the family name going." Theo said this somewhat bitterly, and Draco felt a twinge of concern for his friend. Pansy didn't seem to notice anything – she simply smiled and hummed a little to herself.

"Ooh, look! It's Padma and Seamus!" Theo's head whipped up at the mention of Finnegan, but Pansy was too busy waving them over to notice. Draco stared at his friend as several things began to come together. He shook his head, not sure what to make of it, and decided that if Theo wanted to tell him anything, he would tell him. He turned back to the archway and watched as the rest of the eighth years came through, as well as some of the younger students.

Pansy had obviously become friends with the rest of the eighth-year girls, because they all came over to sit with the three Slytherins. Granger came panting up just as the players rose into the air, carrying a huge basket of food from the kitchens.

"I hope I'm not too late. Did I miss anything?" she asked breathlessly. Finnegan reassured her that she hadn't, and the game began.

The teams were small – only four players on each. The two Weasleys were on the same team as Blaise, and Draco chuckled at the somewhat distasteful look on the sister's face whenever she passed to him as her other Chaser. They were only playing with a Seeker, Keeper and two Chasers, so she really had no choice in the matter. She gradually relaxed after they pulled some complex moves to throw off the other team's Chasers, Chambers and Summerby.

The spectators cheered for two hours – none of them much cared who was scoring, or indeed, if the game was particularly well played. Draco thought that, all things considering, there was indeed a lot of skill out on the pitch, even if it hadn't been used in a while. As the players sank back down to the ground after Potter caught the Snitch – of course – Draco began to make his quiet way off the pitch.

The bubble of happiness that had grown inside him as he watched the game seemed to shrink a little as he glanced at the mob of laughter and hugging that had formed on the pitch. Even Pansy and Theo had gotten caught up in it – Blaise was no surprise, as he didn't have the same reservations about showing emotions as the rest of the Slytherins – and Draco felt a small twinge of jealousy at how easily his friends had gotten over their childhoods of strict, Pureblood expectations of decorum.

He snorted at his dour ruminations as he trudged off. Here he had been perfectly content, and he had to ruin his afternoon of pleasure with such melancholy thoughts. Scowling, he trudged back to the castle, hoping that Pansy wouldn't come later to chastise him for leaving so early.

-O-O-O-O-

"So, if I had a mixture of infusion of myrtlewood and essence of salamander tongue, what properties would it have?"

"Erm…" The girl sitting next to him frowned in concentration, her blond hair sensibly tied back in a long braid down her back. "Oh! It would be the basis of an enlargement potion."

"Right. And if I used powdered boar tusk instead of myrtlewood?"

"Umm…" She frowned again. Draco waited patiently, remembering how hard it had been for him to keep all the different properties straight. He had been in the library with Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's sister, for the past two hours. She was bright, that much was clear, and just needed a little pushing to understand what Slughorn was going on about.

"If it helps any, boar tusk and pounded beetle eyes are used in aphrodisiacal potions."

"Erm, then it would be a fertility potion, wouldn't it?"

"Exactly. It helps sometimes, when you get stuck, to remember what other sorts of potions an ingredient goes into. A good number have similar effects."

"But not all of them?"

"Right – not all of them. But I think this was enough for today. I know this stuff is hard – Merlin knows I wanted to set my Potions book on fire for a while – but you did a really good job with it." He gave her a small smile, which she tremulously returned.

"Thanks. And thanks for doing this, Draco."

"Yeah, well…" He hastily shuffled some papers, embarrassed. "Anyway, same time next week?"

"Sounds good," she replied quietly, packing her books away. Draco swung his bag over his shoulder and waited for her to finish. They left the library and began the walk to the Great Hall in companionable silence.

Astoria was similar to her sister – quiet and kind. He really had enjoyed their time together. His bad mood after leaving the Quidditch match had disappeared, much to his surprise, over the last two hours. He attributed some of it to the comforting and familiar subject matter, and part of it to the good-natured and persistent girl who walked next to him. It was very nice to see her determinedness to understand Potions and actually do something useful with her life – he hadn't forgotten that she wanted to be a Healer.

"How are your other classes this year?" She started a little at his voice – the rest of the school was at dinner and his words were loud in the silence of the hallway.

"Quite well. I'm glad that we don't have to worry about N.E. until next year, though. A little break after the O.." They continued in this vein until they reached the Great Hall, where she politely said good-bye and went to join the other sixth-years at the table. Draco headed towards Pansy, Daphne and Theo and dropped into an empty seat upon reaching them.

"How was it?" Daphne asked immediately. "Was she annoying? Really, Draco, you don't have to see her again if you don't want to."

"No, Daph. It was fine," he said, laughing. "She's kinda shy, yeah?"

"Psh," she scoffed. Pansy looked on, amused, while Theo stared off into the distance. "Just wait until you've spent more time with her. She'll get over it." Draco grinned and started on his chicken.

"Draco," Pansy started. "Where did you go after the game? I couldn't find you."

"Oh," Draco had been afraid this would come up. "I just had to get some work done."

"Hmmm. Well, next time, just find me before you leave –"

"Pans, I'm really not in the mood," he cut her off through gritted teeth. She and Daphne looked at him concernedly for a moment before she replied.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, Theo…" she turned to the boy on his right to talk about a Herbology assignment they had to do. Draco sighed and resumed cutting up his chicken. She worried far too much about him – he was afraid he was really going to hurt her one day.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Sorry I didn't get it up last week. I might have to start doing every other Wednesday because of school and all that. Sorry… On breaks I'll try to do weekly. **

**Anyway, let me know if there can be any improvements or if anything doesn't make sense. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far – it really means a lot to me to know people are reading and enjoying. **

**Until next time, **

**xoxo - GusGus**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Alright, I'm sorry it took so long to update. School is rather… time consuming. I'm pretty sure I spend as much time at school as I do at home (sleep included…) Meh. Anyhoo, thanks for all the reviews! Enjoy! **

The dark, heavy clouds held the promise of snow, and Hermione breathed in deeply to catch the scent of pine needles and wood fires. She grinned happily at Ron as they wandered through Hogsmeade. The weeks had flown by, and suddenly there were only a few before Christmas was upon them. As eighth years, they had permission to go down to Hogsmeade whenever they wanted to, so Ron had persuaded Hermione to come with him as he went Christmas shopping.

She had a few things to pick up, though she had done a good amount of proactive shopping over the summer. It was always good to be prepared. She did want to pick up some Honeydukes chocolate for her parents. Though they were dentists, they were strangely infatuated with the wizarding delicacy.

"Have you looked in Spintwitches for anything?" she asked Ron, knowing that it was doubtful he would have gotten anything for anyone at this point in time.

"No… Do you mind if we pop in?" He grinned down at her when she nodded.

"I'm only going in because it's bloody cold out. Not because I'm going to help you decide between a new pair of gloves or a broomstick polishing kit for Charlie."

"Oh, do you think he would like one, then?"

"Like one of _what_, Ronald Weasley?" Hermione rebuffed him with pretend indignation. He raised his arm to ward off her powerful poke.

He chuckled and shoved his hands back into his pockets to keep them warm – though she _had_ told him to bring his mittens – and she slipped her arm in the crook of his. Having turned into quite the gentleman, he opened the door and let her in first, though due to their arm-linkage, they both entered the shop at the same time.

Half an hour later, the pair left, loaded down with new Quidditch gloves for Harry and a Wasps scarf for Charlie. Since there were so many Weasley children, they had decided that each of them would be assigned to take care of gifts for one of the others. Ron had drawn Charlie from the lot, and had been having trouble deciding what to get him. Luna had recommended an interesting book about a small subspecies of dragon living somewhere in the Arctic, so Ron had placed an order at Flourish and Blotts that was due to arrive any day.

"All set, then?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Hermione glanced up at him, startled. He looked slightly smug at having taken her aback. "Got Dad a new alarm clock – he broke the old one tinkering with it – and Mum that new Celestina Warbeck record. Kinda glad I won't be home all the time – that music would drive me barmy." He shuddered at the last part, and Hermione couldn't help but chuckle.

"Oh!" he suddenly started. "I was supposed to ask if you and your parents wanted to come over for Christmas dinner."

"I would love to, Ron. I'll just have to owl them and see if they can make it." They had made their way over to the Three Broomsticks, and Ron once again held the door open for her. Hermione blushed at the thought that Ron had gotten so mature – and especially for her – though she was forced to reconsider when he tripped over a chair and almost onto the lap of a somewhat disgruntled customer. She was losing track of all the times she had chuckled that afternoon. And she hadn't gotten an O on her Arithmancy O.W.L by being a bad counter.

-O-O-O-O-

As nice as Hogsmeade had been, Hermione sighed in relief as she stretched her feet towards the fireplace and squashed one of the couch pillows into a more comfortable shape. As soon as she and Ron had gotten to the castle, Ron had dashed up to the common room to wrap and hide his purchases. Harry had looked in askance at Hermione when Ron had barreled past him, so she had to explain the whole situation to him.

Opening her Charms book, she glanced up to see Harry and Ron once more engaged in a chess battle. She turned her attention to the Muggle-Repelling section of the book, and was soon absorbed in her studies. She was interrupted by the arrival of Crookshanks, who plopped down across her hands and book, rendering them ineffective.

"Really, Crookshanks? I was in the middle of a sentence, you know." He merely gazed at her, unfazed.

"He probably knows you study too much, Granger." She looked up to see Malfoy settle into the armchair next to her sofa. Crookshanks looked torn between which lap to sit on, before deciding to stay on the one where he was currently resting.

"Can I help you with something, Malfoy?" she replied, coolly. She couldn't help but remember the last conversation the two of them had had in the common room.

"McGonagall is looking for you."

"Now? It's rather late…" Hermione knew it wasn't _that_ late, but she was rather comfortable by the fire.

"I suppose so. She just told me to toddle off and fetch you, so here I am." Malfoy looked behind her, and she noticed that Ron was staring at him intently, though he made no move to get up. "That looks like my cue to leave, then." He started to rise.

"Hold on. Where am I supposed to meet Professor McGonagall?"

"In her office, of course." He took a deep breath, and seemed to be debating something. "Granger, about that last time, when we had a bit of a spat… I'm, well… I shouldn't have reacted like that." Hermione almost let her jaw drop in shock, but she restrained herself. Just barely.

"And I shouldn't have gone through your things." She looked at him questioningly. "So?"

"So." He nodded as though some sort of puzzle or question had been solved, and walked away. She sat in confusion for a moment before lifting Crookshanks off her lap and rooting around under the couch to find her shoes.

"What was _that_ about?" Ron asked as she laced up her shoes.

"Apparently McGonagall wants me for something. He was just the messenger."

"Oh." Ron scuffed his foot along the floor. "Well, that's good, I guess."

She didn't even register that his comment made no sense before the hurried out of the common room.

-O-O-O-O-

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had made very few changes to the office she met Hermione in, yet there were some small items that showed it had very clearly become the new abode of the professor. The bookshelves were neatly filled with books, mostly of Transfiguration and reference, and many of the tinkling, silvery instruments that Dumbledore had been so fond of were nowhere to be seen.

"Professor?" Hermione asked hesitantly as she entered the room. The Headmistress looked up from the papers she was reading and motioned Hermione in.

"Ms. Granger, I'm glad you could make it. I apologize for having you come rather late."

"It's fine, Professor. What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Right. I'll get straight to the point then. A friend of mine is planning a research project in new Transfiguration, Charms and Potions techniques. He mentioned that he was looking for people to help with it. They would start as interns and assistants, but there would always be the possibility of helping with or even running the experiments. I thought, Ms. Granger, that you might be interested in the opportunity." Hermione nearly jumped out of her chair in excitement.

"Oh, I would love to do it! When does it start? Who is running it? Oh, Professor, I'm so excited!" McGonagall smiled and held up her hand.

"Please, Ms. Granger, one question at a time!" The Headmistress smiled benevolently at Hermione. "Hubert Vloshinger is running it, and while he is still getting the permits and grants from the Ministry, he hopes to start in the summer, so you would not have to worry about this project interfering with your N.E.. I can send him an owl to let him know that you are interested – he should get back to you soon."

"Thank you, Professor! I really appreciate it."

"Of course, Ms. Granger. It is nice to see a student so serious and excited about learning. Now, I will send Hubert an owl in the morning."

"Thank you," Hermione called as she got up and left the Headmistress' office. She practically skipped through the hallway and couldn't resist spinning around when she was sure no one was coming. Feeling giddy, she floated through the common room and up to bed, willing the next day to come quickly so that she could hear from Hubert Vloshinger.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for being so late…. Hopefully I'll be able to update more over winter break (coming soon, woot woot!). Mehehehe… Sleep, I am coming to getchoo! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it! (cough, cough, hint hint to people who haven't reviewed) . **

**Until next time! **

**- GusGus Gamgee**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: The usual. I don't own anything… **

**Also, sorry this is a little late. I'm on school vacation (wootwoot!) so my schedule is a little out of whack. I might not just stick to Wednesdays for the next coupla weeks (a lil' X-mas present for y'all). Anyhoo, hope you enjoy! **

The drafty hallway sent a swirl of cold air up Draco's cloak, and he shivered as he gave the password to the sharp-eyed Rowena, the only Founder still awake. Limping into the common room and sinking into an armchair, he glanced at the dying fire and pulled out his wand to send it roaring back to life. He had spent the past few hours in the library, working on a project for Potions. Slughorn had, oh so kindly, made the deadline for his research paper the last day of term before winter holiday.

Draco had spent the last week working on it, yet still had been forced to stay up through morning to finish it. _Damn those Ashwinders_, he thought viciously. He had read in a Potions journal that a Potions expert in the 19th century may have discovered more uses for Ashwinder eggs than just love potions and ague. He should have stopped at the 'may have'. Instead, he had informed Slughorn that his paper would be on alternative properties of Ashwinders.

But now it was done, and tomorrow, third period, he would be handing in his completed paper, soaked with sweat, tears and blood from the blister that formed on his finger from writing so much. Well, not really, but it sounded quite admirable. Maybe he should have stuck with Slughorn's regular class… Content, however, that his paper was finally done, Draco drifted off in what could only be described as the squashiest, most comfortable armchair, especially after sitting for hours on one of the hard, wooden library chairs.

-O-O-O-O-

Slughorn chortled merrily as he regarded the rolls of parchment on his desk. Draco was pleased to note that his roll of parchment was only _slightly_ smaller than Granger's.

"Fabulous, fabulous. I'm glad I will have something interesting to read over the holiday." The professor clasped his hands over his protruding belly and gazed at his two students, who were both showing their own signs of exhaustion. Draco glanced over at Granger and saw that she was slumping slightly, one hand propped under her chin, and with much less spark in her eye than usual. Though Malfoys did not _slump_, he would have to say it was quite difficult to maintain the straight-backed posture instilled in him at an early age.

"Well," began Slughorn, as Draco started a little from the sudden noise. "I don't have anything planned for you today, so the two of you run along and pack." Draco grimaced, but stood to leave. "And if Professor McGonagall asks, we had _quite_ the discussion on enlargement potions," the old professor shouted after them with a wink and a tap of his finger to the side of his nose.

Draco rolled his eyes and swept out of the classroom, wanting to spend his now free period in front of the fireplace in the common room. He let out a slight sigh of annoyance as Granger fell into step beside him, awkwardly taking small steps to keep at his own, plodding pace.

"That was quite nice of him," she began timidly. "To give us a free period, that is."

"Mmmn."

"Have you, erm, packed yet?" It was quite the valiant effort she was making, to be civil to him. Ah, well. Some things couldn't be helped.

"No. I'm not going home for the holidays." It sounded too abrupt, even to his ears. "Mother is visiting some family in France – doesn't want to spend Christmas at the Manor without… without F-father." He winced a little at how ungainly and clumsy he sounded.

"Oh. I'm sorry," she replied, sounding sincere. "Um, may I ask why you aren't going with her?" A harsh, bitter laugh escaped his mouth at her artlessness.

"Can't leave the country, Granger. Surely you know _that_." She quietly demurred that no, she had not known that, before sinking back into silence. He supposed that she expected him to be kind and thoughtful after that apology he had issued, but the cold and damp had once more gotten to his knee and made him irritable. Though Pansy had remarked the other day that it was becoming quite hard to tell which days his knee was hurting and which days he was merely moody.

He nearly sighed with relief when the portrait of the Founders came into view, and did let out a breath of contentment when he sank into one of the armchairs beside the fireplace. Padma Patil gave him an odd look when he chose the seat right next to her, but ignored him and returned to her conversation with the Abbott girl. He pulled a book out of his bag, and settled more comfortably into the chair to read.

-O-O-O-O-

The next morning dawned cold and clear. Draco hoisted himself out of bed and dressed quickly to ward off the chill of the stonewalled dormitory. Checking his watch, he saw he had time for breakfast before it was time to say farewell to his friends who were going home for the holiday. Though the train left relatively early, all of his dorm mates were still sequestered away behind drawn curtains.

Making his slow and quiet way to the Great Hall, Draco reveled in the silence. It would be nice to have the castle nearly to himself for a few weeks. The dorm, at least, would be nice and tidy since, so far as he knew, all the eighth-year boys but himself were going home for the holiday.

Blaise entered the hall just as Draco had started on his porridge. Not being particularly fond of mornings, Blaise offered the merest hint of greeting when he sat down. Draco wordlessly pushed a mug of coffee over to the darker boy, who took it with a nod of thanks and promptly downed the entire thing.

"That's more like it," he sighed as the caffeine entered his system. "Thanks."

"At least now I can have a decent conversation with you."

"Touche. What has you up so early, anyway?"

"Just wanted to see you and Pansy off."

"Ahh." Blaise nodded. "Draco, about that –"

"Thank you for the offer, Blaise, but I'm fine. I'll owl you if I need anything."

"Or if you change your mind and choose to actually interact with people on what _should_ be a day when you don't sit around moping, alone and bereft of laughter and sunshine." Blaise heaved a dramatic sigh. Draco cracked a grin.

"I'll keep that in mind, Blaise, as I enjoy the fine ciders and ham provided by the kind house elves."

"We have plenty of good food at home –"

"Your mother tried to serve lutefisk last year. _Lutefisk_. This year she might possibly get her way and doom you all to a painful death, which I will be able to evade and give a wonderful eulogy at your funeral."

"You sly dog…" Blaise shook his head as Draco grinned at him. Glancing at his wrist, he saw that it was nearly time to leave. The students that had trickled into the hall began their slow exodus towards the entrance hall. Draco walked with Blaise to the front door, where Pansy was waiting.

"Draco, _do_ promise to write, won't you?" she said as she gave him a hug.

"Of course, Pansy. Don't forget I have to send you your Christmas present."

"Happy Christmas, Draco."

"Happy Christmas, Pansy." She let go of him to smile and then turned to walk to the carriages with Blaise, who raised his hand in farewell to Draco. He waved to them both before turning and making his way up to the common room. Hopefully it would be nice and quiet now, perfect for a bit of reading.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed! I don't really know about this chapter… Meh. **

**Anyhoo, if I don't manage to get another chapter up before the BIG DAY, I just want to say Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! **

**xoxo, GusGus**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable. All credit to JK Rowling. **

The sound of clattering pans and the smell of bacon drifted up to Hermione's room and her eyes popped open when she realized that it was Christmas morning. Throwing back her sheets, she rolled out of bed and slipped on a dressing gown before running downstairs to see her parents.

They were standing in the kitchen, drinking their coffee, when she pounded down the stairs and through the door. They laughed when she threw her arms around them both to give the traditional Christmas Morning Hug they enjoyed every year.

"'Morning, dear." Jean Granger smiled down at her daughter. "Howard, love, I think those eggs are done."

"Right, right." He stepped across the kitchen to turn the stove off. Hermione wriggled out of her mother's embrace to fetch plates and silverware.

"Hermione, what time do the Weasleys want us again?" Jean asked once the three of them had sat down at the table. Hermione was caught with her mouth full, and tried to swallow quickly to answer. Her father laughed at the face she made.

"Around noon," she finally replied. The bacon had been quite chewy.

"And what are their names again? I'm afraid I'm going to get terribly confused…"

"Arthur and Molly are the parents. You met them in Diagon Alley a few years ago." Her parents voiced their agreement on this statement. "Bill is the oldest – he'll be there with his wife Fleur – and then comes Charlie. I'm not sure if Percy is coming – he might be going to Penelope's for Christmas dinner. Then there's George, Ron and Ginny."

"Oh my," Jean sighed. "Now, Howard, have you got all of that?"

"Don't worry, Mum. They'll understand if you get them mixed up. They're used to it." Howard gave a small chuckle and patted his daughter's hand.

By the time they arrived at the Weasley's, Hermione wasn't sure if her parents knew how many children Arthur and Molly even had. She had tried again and again to explain who was who, but it seemed her parents kept getting more and more confused. She ended with an exasperated, "You'll see when we get there. All of the unmarried people probably won't hang around long anyway."

The Burrow was brightly lit and bustling with energy. Fairy lights were strung through the trees outside, and all around the windows and door. Through one of the windows, Hermione could see a huge, trussed up Christmas tree. They knocked on the door, and a laughing Molly pulled them through.

"How nice to see you, Hermione! Oh, yes, we've met before, a few years ago. I'm Molly, in case you didn't remember." She bustled them down the hall. "Ron and Harry are right through there, dear. Run along and have fun. Now, Howard, brace yourself. Arthur will be so excited to talk to you about your work –" Hermione stepped out into the hall and into the excited embraces of Ron, Harry and Ginny.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione!" they all exclaimed, before letting her go. She greeted them in turn, and they dragged her over to the tree to open presents. She had, of course, gotten one for each of them. For Harry and Ron, she had gotten pocket watches. Though it was tradition for sons to get watches for their seventeenth birthday, Ron's was a little fragile and fancy for everyday use. For Ginny, she had gotten some chocolates and some bracelets that the redhead had been admiring in Diagon Alley over the summer. Then they all pressed their own presents on Hermione.

From Ginny was a small bottle of perfume, and from Harry a book she had mentioned to him earlier that year. It wasn't very creative, but then again Harry had always been somewhat oblivious to girly fancies. She appreciated it all the same, bless him. Ron had gotten her a small locket engraved with an H. It was sweet and simple, and she put it on immediately.

Hours later, the entire family was settled in the living room, enjoying some tea. The last remnants of Christmas dinner had been cleared away, and Molly, Fleur and Jean had tackled the dirty dishes quickly. Hermione was sitting quietly, listening to the murmur of voices around her, when a flushing Ron asked to speak with her. She followed him out to the hallway.

"Erm, Hermione… I was just – well, how do you think of me?"

"Excuse me?" She thought she knew what he was talking about, and thought it both amusing and endearing the way he was going about it.

"Well, umm… We've been friends a while, yeah? And the last few months, since the battle, actually, we've sort of been… dancing around. And I just want to know if you want to be friends, or something more."

"Ron, are you asking me to, officially, be your girlfriend?" He flushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Well, erm… Yes, I suppose I am."

"Then I accept your proposition, Ronald Weasley." Hermione laughed delightedly. He bent down and grasped her arms above the elbow, looking at her questioningly. She nodded slightly, and he bent down even further to place his lips chastely against her own.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Ron."

-O-O-O-O-

_ Hogwarts castle was not usually this cold. There was something about being taken over by Death Eaters that had sucked all the warmth out of it. Yet he had no time to muse over the state of central heating if he was to make it to his next class on time. The Carrows were never understanding or sympathetic when it came to latecomers. Though he had no desire to sit in on Alecto's "Muggle Studies" class, the alternative was much worse. _

_ Draco made it to the classroom, but was just on the wrong side of the shrill bell that sounded through the school at the beginning of each class. He tried to sit down inconspicuously, but was noticed by the sharp-eyed Alecto. Thankfully, another student entered just as she was about to begin her verbal abuse for being late. It was one of the sixth-year Ravenclaws – Draco couldn't remember her name. Easter holidays were in just a week, and Draco was hoping to keep his head down long enough to make to the break. _

_ "Ah, decided to show up, did we love?" Alecto's shrill voice echoed in the classroom, a feral grin on her face. The Ravenclaw nervously gave an answering smile, hoping that she would be able to sit down and class would continue as it had been. Then, any trace of joy was wiped off of Alecto's face. "Malfoy, Trumble, come with me. The rest of you, read chapter twenty in your books and discuss the vulgarities of Muggle… cinema. Behave!" There was no doubt the class would obey – nobody crossed the Carrow's unless they didn't mean to. _

_ Draco silently gathered up his books and followed Alecto into the hallway. He knew it was doubtful he would be coming back to class. Alecto marched them through the hallways at wandpoint, daring them to misbehave. A bone-chilling giggle suddenly sounded in the hall. _

_ "Alecto, darling. What have we here?" Bellatrix LeStrange appeared from the shadows and sauntered over to their little group. "Oh, my _dear_ nephew. How nice to see you," she cooed at Draco, smiling at him. _

_ "Auntie Bella –" he managed to say, before she cut him off. _

_ "Where are you taking them?" she addressed Alecto, putting all of her innate Black family regality into practice. _

_ "Down to the dungeons. They need to learn a little… civility for being late to class." _

_ "How true. It does not do to be tardy." They continued to move down the corridor, and Bellatrix fell into step beside Draco. "Actually, Alecto, I would like to speak with Draco… privately. I assure you that I will take his discipline into my own hands." Carrow considered this, and nodded before leading Trumble away. Draco and Bellatrix walked for a bit before she stopped him near some stairs. _

_ "Draco," she crooned. "Draco, Draco, Draco. What _am _I to do with you? Being late for class, and I've heard that you refused to punish another student when they misbehaved. Tsk," she clicked her teeth. "I know what it is. Dumbledore was too soft on you. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child,' as they say. Well, I'm here to make up for it, never fear. And if you're a _very_ good boy, and learn your lesson, maybe I'll teach you some new curses. Or perhaps help you with your Occlumency. How does that sound?" _

_ "That… That sounds very nice, Auntie." There wasn't much else he _could _say._

_ "Good. Now, this is for your own good. I'll just take a look-see and see just how bad things are. Wouldn't do to have my lessons based on wrong assumptions." He braced himself under her leer. "_Legimens._" _

_ Fragmented images and memories danced behind his eyes, and he fought to keep her out and _away_. Desperate, he took a step away from her. Right onto a damp stone, half frozen and icy in the still-wintery cold. His legs slid from under him, and he felt himself losing balance and tumbling through the air. What should have been stone was simply more air as he tilted towards the stairs and overbalanced. _

Draco woke up, flailing his arms as though hoping to catch himself as he fell down the stairs. His arms encountered nothing but blankets, however. He forced himself to calm down, and was secretly glad his dorm mates had gone home for the holidays. He shivered slightly, and was unnerved to feel something heavy at the foot of his bed.

Then it struck him that it was Christmas, and that there were actual presents at the foot of his bed. There had been no Christmas the past year – obviously part of the plan to rid all of the young witches and wizards of any sentimentality they might have. Draco felt a small grin curl his lips at the fact that people had actually sent him things today.

He had, of course, gotten things for his parents, and Blaise, and Pansy. He wasn't sure if Azkaban allowed prisoners to receive presents, but perhaps Lucius would be able to enjoy a new book on seventeenth century art. There wasn't anything remotely threatening about the book, so Draco hoped his father would at least have that to keep today from being just another day in the monotony of prison routine.

Draco sat up and shuffled through his presents. There weren't many, but they were _there_, and he was especially drawn to the small package with his name written on it in his father's hand. He reached for it immediately, and slowly opened the paper, wanting to save the scrap with his father's writing. Inside was a letter and a small ring box. He opened the box first. Nestled in white silk was the Malfoy family signet ring.

"Oh, shit, shit, _shit_," he whispered under his breath. With shaking hands, he unfolded the parchment.

_Draco, _

_ Happy Christmas. I am so sorry to have to place this burden on your shoulders. This moment should have happened in years when I was almost senile and you were ready to settle down and receive the responsibility. It is not that I don't trust you with this – I can think of no better hands than yours to place the Estate in. I had just hoped you would have been able to see the world and have a life before becoming Lord Malfoy. _

_ Please forgive me. When I have finished my time in Azkaban, perhaps I may give you the chance to go and be young, but until then I lade you with this burden. I wish things had turned out differently, but they haven't, and I have only myself to blame. _

_ Draco, please do what I have prevented you from doing for too long. Take your life into your own hands, and become a man you are proud to be. You are a credit to us all, and make me proud to be a Malfoy. _

_ I wish I had said this more often, but I love you, and I wish you happiness in whatever you choose to do. And I am terribly, terribly sorry for pressing this obligation upon you. _

_ Fondest regards,_

_ Your Father _

Draco sat in stunned shock. He felt a surge of anger rise towards his father. How _dare_ he spring this on Draco – surely he knew that an eighteen year old couldn't handle this. But then the anger was replaced with sorrow, that his father's hand had been forced into doing something he hadn't wanted to do. He slipped the ring onto his finger – it fit perfectly. Along with the weight on his hand, he felt a new load pressing on his shoulders, bowing them under the responsibility and commitment.

Ignoring the rest of his presents, Draco curled up around a pillow. He was once again glad he was the only one left in the dorm – no one would see the few tears that escaped his tightly shut eyes as he tried to fall asleep and escape, for a little bit, the heaviness that lay over him and settled into his bones.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed. The last bit was a little bit angsty, but, hey, it's Draco alone on Christmas. What's an author to do? **

**Let me know what you think! Reviews much appreciated! **

**- GusGus**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything. It all belongs to JK Rowling. **

Hermione hummed absently a little as she rested her head against the window of the train. She stared out at the passing countryside, feeling a little glum. This was the last time she would be going back to Hogwarts as a student. It was raining, too – even the weather was agreeing with her mood. It wasn't a misting rain or the heavy stuff that came with thunderstorms – this was a dripping, grey and damp sort of day that hung around for a while.

She started a little when Ron slipped his hand into hers. Glancing over, she saw that he was still absorbed in his chess game with Harry, but he seemed to sense her looking at him and glanced at her to give her a small smile. She gave an equally small smile back, and he squeezed her hand a little. The warmth felt nice, and she turned back to the window as he turned back to his game.

Twenty minutes later, they were done, as Ron moved his knight for the final time and leant back with a sigh of satisfaction. Harry frowned and chewed his lip before good-naturedly tipping his king over.

"Got me again," he chuckled. Ron let off a little smirk.

"Don't worry mate. You're getting better."

"Hmm, don't know about that." Harry nodded towards Hermione. "You all right over there, 'Mione?"

"What? Oh, yes, fine, Harry." She turned away from the window to face them. "It's just weird, you know, that this is the last time we'll be going _back_." Ron nodded, and stroked her palm with his thumb reassuringly.

"Yeah…" Harry stared out the window. "There's not that much time left… Kinda scary." Ron reached across the car and patted Harry on the knee. He was getting quite good at this whole comforting thing. "What are you guys, I don't know, thinking of doing? When we're done, I mean."

"Auror'd be cool," Ron replied thoughtfully. "Quidditch would've been cool too, but I dunno how many positions are opening up and stuff."

"Yeah, Auror would be cool." Harry's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Hermione. "What about you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe teaching, maybe something more with S.P.E.W?" She shrugged. "I have been interested in working with the Ministry, either with S.P.E.W. or just the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. That could be exciting."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, weakly. "That would be… exciting."

"Ronald!" Hermione cried, slapping him on the shoulder. "Who knows, maybe you'll end up working with me one day." She and Harry smirked at Ron as he turned slightly green.

"What? That would be awful! I mean, it would be nice to work with you, 'Mione, but I don't know if it's really my thing. Do I have a thing? If I did, I'm not sure pencil pushing - I mean, doing important Ministry business – would really be it but I could try, you know, if I were working with you… Have I mentioned how much you mean to me?" Hermione finally took pity on him.

"I was just kidding, Ron," she laughed. "Now, how about you and I give this chess-thing a whiz. George taught me a trick or two over Christmas." The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, and soon they arrived at Hogwarts. The thestral-drawn carriages were waiting for them, and Hermione gave a small shiver when she remembered she could _see_ the thestrals. It was unnerving and sad, to say the least.

They still had some time before dinner, so the three of them made their way to the common room. They met up and walked with some of the other eighth-years, who chatted about their own Christmas holidays. Hermione found herself walking alongside Blaise, having been separated in the shuffle from Harry and Ron.

"You look tan," stated Blaise as they started up one of the staircases. "Go anywhere?"

"Yes, actually. My parents and I went to Italy." He grinned down at her.

"You don't say? My mum's family is from Italy. Well, actually," he corrected, "her father's side of the family. Grandmother's family is Greek."

"Where's your dad from?" His grin faltered a bit but came back strong, so quickly Hermione wasn't sure she had seen it slip.

"My grandpére is from France, and his mother's from Egypt." He grinned even more broadly at her startled expression. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just… Wow, that's a lot of places."

"Yeah. Makes for some interesting family reunions," he deadpanned, and Hermione could not for the life of her tell if he was serious or not. She didn't have much time to think about it before their conversation was interrupted by Pansy.

"Blaise, _please_ tell me you got the note," she said, grabbing Blaise's arm. "Oh, hello, Hermione. Sorry to interrupt. Don't mind us." She turned back to Blaise. "_Well_?"

"Oh, I got it," he replied grimly. "Did you get _his_ note?"

"Yes," Pansy replied, just as grimly. "In his best, most formal copperplate." Hermione was _very_ confused, but she kept quiet. She had learned that some things were forthcoming if you knew how to wait. "You don't suppose he's gone all… lordly, do you?"

"No." Blaise shook his head. "If he wanted to do that, he would have signed it with the whole shebang. No," he repeated, sighing. "This is like the _last_ time he wrote to us like that."

"Oh…" Pansy said, subdued. "Well, Merlin's mother's favorite pair of mangoes!" she suddenly erupted. "Do you realize that this is going to be November all _over_ again?"

"Yeah, well… We all know Lucius never had the best timing. For anything." What were they talking about? Something to do with Malfoy, certainly, which only piqued her interest. Hermione still kept her head down and walked quietly alongside the two Slytherins. They were close to the portrait of the Founders, and Hermione hoped her curiosity would be assuaged by the time they arrived.

"Thank Merlin Peony's so much older than me… At least Mum got _her_ prepared to take over should anything happen. I am perfectly content to make my own way and not have to deal with any of the mess of running the family. Ugh…" Pansy shuddered.

"The bane of only children. Or eldest children, I should say," Blaise added thoughtfully. "Ah." They had arrived at the portrait leading to the common room, and it opened up to accept them. "Hermione, I apologize that our conversation got cut off. We'll have to talk later about your trip." Pansy was tapping her foot impatiently. "I'll see you later then."

"Yeah… Bye, Blaise!" she called as he and Pansy hurried deeper into the common room. She stared after him, slightly disappointed. Hermione wasn't really into gossip – she never contributed anything to the rumor mill between Parvarti and Lavender, though she did sometimes listen in – she felt it wasn't fair to have such a mystery given to her before she found out what was going on.

She liked answers, though, and was not a fan of not being able to find them. Then again, whatever it was, it was Malfoy's business, and it was best not to interfere. Remembering the look on his face when she had gone through his papers was more than enough to dissuade her from running after Blaise and finding out what was going on.

-O-O-O-O-

Dinner that night was a very small affair. Hermione was still slightly jetlagged from her trip to Italy, and the long day of traveling was getting to her. She really wanted to lie down and go to sleep, so she asked Ron if he would come down to dinner early with her. He agreed, and almost tripped getting up from his chair, long limbs tangling with themselves. They strolled through the halls together, smirking when they saw some of the younger students engaging in their own bumbling displays of attraction.

"Did you see that little squirt over there?" Ron sniggered, jerking his head towards a particularly small Ravenclaw trying to engage a much taller Hufflepuff girl in conversation. "I don't think I was ever that small. D'you suppose she likes him?" His question was answered for him when the Hufflepuff turned around and began to talk to on of her friends who was standing with her with a look of faint annoyance on her face.

"Oh, poor boy," Hermione smiled. "I hope, for his sake, he hits his growth spurt soon." The boy in question had slunk off to rejoin some of his _own_ friends, who were giving him commiserating pats on the back.

Dinner was, indeed, a quiet affair. There were barely any people in the Great Hall, and the two of them ate quickly. When the majority of the student body began to trickle in, Hermione gave Ron a thoughtful look.

"Ron, if you want to stay and sit with Harry or something, I can go up on my own. I'm afraid I won't be much company – I was planning on just heading to bed."

"Are you sure, 'Mione?"

"Of course, Ron." She grinned at him. "Good night." He leaned over the table and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Night, Hermione." She got up, and he waved Neville over to take her seat. She nodded to him, and he grinned cheerily at her before turning to face Ron. Apparently they had some sort of chess thing going on. Neville wasn't very good at all, but he still insisted that Ron teach him. Hermione didn't understand it, but she was sure he had some Neville-y reason for doing so.

The hallways were silent as she made her way back to the common room. A few minutes later, she was sliding in between her sheets with a sigh of bliss as she felt herself sinking into slumber.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! The ending is a little awkward – I feel like I never know how to finish these things! Also, I have given up on Wednesdays. Sorry for those who were looking forward to a schedule… Still trying to go for once a week, but we'll see. Thanks to everyone who reviewed – it really means a lot to me! **

**- GusGus**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: the usual. Don't own anything. Maybe for my birthday? **

The back of the library had a peculiar musty smell of old parchment and ink. Thankfully, Madame Pince used a rather ingenious spell to keep off dust, so Draco was able to lurk quite comfortably behind the rows and rows of shelving. There were a few desks that lined the walls, and nobody seemed to come back here except for the occasional couple desperate for a snog.

Now, however, the only person in the back of the library was Draco, working steadily on a Charms assignment – explaining what had gone wrong during Charms earlier that day. He had somehow managed to charm his lamp into biting some sixth year in his class and latching on. That was what happened when he was running on four hours of shuteye. It was only the third day back from the holidays, and he was already behind on sleep.

Neatly placing the last period at the end of the essay, Draco set it aside to dry and pulled over another stack of paper. He somewhat wished that his Charms essay had been longer, because then he could have avoided facing the familial duties of paperwork and accounting. As he reached for a quill to mark some changes on the Gringott's accounts, he felt the unfamiliar weight on his right hand from his father's ring. He set down his quill and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. Would he ever get used to it?

Before he had a chance to start again on the ledger, a rustling behind him warned of approaching people. He hoped it was a few amorous fifth-years who would run away at first glimpse of his glare. He snorted, remembering some of his own adventures with Pansy back when they had thought it might work out between them. But, alas, impassioned students it was not to be, unless Blaise and Pansy were secretly skulking together in dark corners. And Pansy was not a skulking type of girl.

"Blaise."

"Hey," Blaise replied, standing there and fidgeting. "So – "

"Blaise," Draco said again, abruptly. "I'm… I'm sorry I've been avoiding you and Pansy the last few days. It's just… I don't really know how to deal with all this –" he waved his hand vaguely at the piles of paper on the table.

"We're here for you, mate," Blaise responded gently. "And if you need time, we'll give you time. I just don't like seeing you give yourself up for your sense of… duty. It shouldn't be yours to have yet."

"Sanctimonia vincet semper," Draco spat at Blaise, albeit tiredly. "Purity always conquers. He always told me, 'good gold doesn't get that way without being tempered', and 'triumph without trial is a sham'." He laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "Don't you see, Blaise? I have to do this – I have to see if there's anything decent in me that can rise to the occasion, or if the Malfoy principles will die out with Lucius – "

"I think your ancestors were going more along the lines of blood than virtue, Draco, but even if they _weren't_, you _are_ good, and you don't need to kill yourself to prove it!"

"Alright, suppose you're right, Blaise. But you have one glaring error – who else is supposed to do all of this?" Draco was angry at Blaise for making him see an easier way out, but he was hungry and could feel a headache coming on and just didn't want to fight with his best friend any more. "And I'm not killing myself… I'm doing just fine," he added sullenly.

"Right, and when was the last time you got a decent night's sleep?" Blaise replied skeptically. "Have you thought about asking your mother, the other Malfoy in a position to take care of things?"

"I can't do that to her!"

"Why not?" Blaise pressed, stepping closer to Draco, who realized that at some point in their conversation he had gotten up from his chair.

"She has too much to worry about! And I'm handling it just fine."

"Your mother is _not_ too busy. Don't disrespect her by thinking it would distract her too much from her redecorating – she sent me a note saying she was going stir-crazy and was thinking of taking up Muggle videogames to keep herself sane! Draco, you're _eighteen_, you haven't even finished school yet. Just relax – you have family who cares about you, you can wait until you get out of here to worry about… everything." Blaise looked at Draco expectantly, waiting for him to reply. Draco just felt worn down, and oh so tired.

"You're right, I suppose…" he muttered.

"What was that?" Blaise questioned, a smirk across his face and a hand to his ear. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Shove off, Zabini. You know perfectly well what I said."

"Yes, well. Shall we go down for dinner then? I'm guessing from your outstandingly good mood that you haven't eaten in a while." Draco grumbled, but accepted, though he hesitated as he moved to pack up the accounts. "No. No way. Don't even think about it, Draco. You are going to come down to dinner and sit with Pansy and me and hear all about her trip over the holidays and you are _going _to enjoy it."

"Well, in that case…" Draco swung his bag over his shoulder and limped after Blaise. He thought he heard some badly muffled giggling, and was glad he had gotten out of the library before the post-dinner flirting began.

-O-O-O-O-

"Now, when is your test again?" Draco asked Astoria, as they sat in the Slytherin common room, potions books and notes scattered around them.

"Second block tomorrow."

"Right. Well, you just review what we went over today and then go to bed." He paused and looked at her worried face. "You'll do _fine_, Astoria. You've been coming along really well."

"Oh… thank you," she blushed and looked down.

"So, shall we meet Thursday night then? That should give you time to learn some new material."

"Yes, thank you." She paused, and blushed again. "Thank you so much for doing this, Draco. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, my pleasure." He felt a wave of affection run through him, and he grinned at her. "You make it pretty easy, you know."

"Oh, erm…" Draco's grin stretched wider, and he heaved himself to his feet with a sigh.

"See you soon, then." He nodded at her wave of farewell – she was already looking over their notes – and headed out of the dungeon common room. He was quite glad to be out of the Slytherin dorms – being under the lake, they were quite damp, and he knew they would just wreak havoc on his leg.

The hallways were silent. Draco walked nearly soundlessly through them, despite the occasional clink of his cane against the stone floor. It was quite late – tutoring sessions had to be scheduled around Astoria's prefect rounds – and he was looking forward to going to bed.

Thanks to Blaise's advice, he was actually sleeping again, and reveled in every minute of it. His mother had gladly taken over the family affairs, writing that there were only so many things that she could set on fire before the house elves politely told her that perhaps cooking was not for missus Cissy. He had chuckled at that, glad that his mother had retained her sense of humor after everything.

He wondered what his mother would think of Astoria. There had always been talk of alliance between the Malfoys and the Greengrasses, though nothing had ever been confirmed. Not that he was thinking of _marrying_ either of them, but it would be nice if Narcissa got to know some of Draco's friends. She already loved Pansy and Blaise, and lamented the fact that he never brought more people over to the Manor to entertain. Never mind that Theo's father was one of Lucius' main competitors for the Dark Lord's favor, but it was nice of her to care

His ruminations were, unfortunately, cut short with the approach of people behind him. Draco tensed, anticipating the worst. He was not disappointed. He was pinned next to the door inside the nearest classroom, and the ordeal began. One of the boys had cast a _lumos_, but it was not enough light to see their faces by. Knowing it was best to not fight back, Draco hung limply as their blows pounded into him. Hopefully it would end soon –

"Oi!" a voice shouted as the door suddenly swung open. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Another _lumos _lit the classroom, and Draco's present attacker's swinging arm missed and whacked him on the nose. He thought he heard a crack, and fell to the floor as he was released. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he focused on dabbing at his bleeding nose and ignored the rest of the proceedings, including the identities of his assailants.

"And what about you, Malfoy?" Weasley's rude tone sounded in Draco's ears as the redhead's lanky body drew closer. He seemed to be finished docking house points and dishing out detentions.

"Mm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. I'll just be going then, Weasley. Thanks ever so – nngh." Draco groaned as he tried to get up. Something had twinged quite painfully in his kidney area, though he didn't think anything was cracked.

"Are you bloody kidding me, Malfoy? You can hardly walk!" Weasley ignored the glare Draco shot at him, and stretched out his hand. "I may not like you very much, but I figure we'll be working together someday and might as well get used to it." Draco sighed, resigned, and allowed Weasley to help him up. "C'mon, let's get you back to the dorm. Unless you need the infirmary?" Draco shook his head – just some ice and he'd be fine.

Weasley looped his arm around Draco's waist, who was offended for all of five seconds before realizing he would very doubtfully make it to the dorms without assistance. They walked in somewhat companionable silence for a bit, before Weasley obviously became uncomfortable with the lack of noise.

"Geez, Malfoy, what do you eat? Feathers?" Draco gave a wheezing chuckle.

"We can't… all… eat a house for… for breakfast." It was hard work going up stairs without his cane, which Weasley was graciously holding in his other hand. They finally made it to the common room, and struggled to get inside, where they were greeted by a startled Granger and Potter, who immediately began asking questions.

**A/N: So, a note about the Malfoy family motto: Basically, Draco looks at it like **_**goodness**_** will always prevail (goodness, purity, etc, etc.) instead of blood purity. And even though Lucius looked at it in the bloodlines way, he still managed to instill enough in Draco that he headed on the right path. And Draco is unwilling to totally diss his father because he still loves him even though he's angry at him – very weird/confused relationship they have. **

**Anyhoo, hope that clears things up. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! **

**Xoxo, GusGus**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything etc, etc. **

The flames in the common room fireplace were crackling merrily, and Hermione leaned back in her chair and soaked in the warmth. Harry looked up somewhat anxiously when she put her book down, but she merely pulled back her hair before pulling it to her lap again. He turned back to his own book and kept taking notes, but paused and exhaled sharply after only a few moments.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?"

"What on _earth_ is the difference between _opp ambustia_ and _oblenio_?

"Well," she said, leaning over to see what he was looking at. "See here? _Opp ambustia_ is good for stopping fevers and whatnot, and… oh." She frowned and scanned the passage again. "Oh! _Oblenio_ is for stopping infections. They _are _rather similar, I suppose…"

"Yeah, thanks Hermione." Harry gave her a little smile and turned back to his notes. The healing spells they had been learning about in Charms were quite tricky, and though Hermione doubted very many of their class would go into Healing, it would still be helpful to know. Slughorn had made Hermione and Malfoy spend a few months straight on basic Healing potions, and occasionally threw in a new one for them to learn.

"Hermione?"

"Mm?"

"What about these two?" Harry pointed somewhat pathetically a little further down the page, and Hermione bent once more to see what his trouble was this time. Before she was able to answer, however, the portrait swung open and Ron shuffled through with Malfoy of all things leaning on his shoulder.

"Ron!" Harry called out joyfully, before seeing his friend's burden. "What the hell, mate?"

"Ron, what _happened_? Is that _blood_?"

"Were you in a fight without me, Ron? Who was it? I can go sort them out, if you want." Harry was only half serious, but Ron waved off their questions as he helped Malfoy to an empty chair by the fire, leaning his cane against the chair. The blond gave him a nod of thanks before summoning a new handkerchief and holding it to his face. Ron sank onto another chair and rubbed a hand over his face.

"What happened?" Hermione demanded shrilly. She winced a little at her tone, but then ignored it when she looked at the two boys who just came in. "Are you alright?"

"_I'm_ fine," Ron said, wearily. "I just walked in on some sixth- and fifth-years beating the living daylights out of Malfoy."

"I was holding up just fine, Weasley," called Malfoy from his chair.

"Tch. Sure. Anyway," he continued, "I took a lot of points off, and we're all going on a nice little visit to McGonagall tomorrow. I'm afraid Gryffindor is no longer in the lead, but… Well…" Hermione reached over and grasped his hand. She knew he had matured a lot over the past year, but had thought that maybe he would have taken this last year at school as a last chance of some irresponsibility. She looked up to see Harry staring intensely at Malfoy, who seemed to be looking broodingly at the fire.

"Why didn't you fight back, Malfoy?" he asked sharply. Malfoy snorted, winced, and gestured to his leg.

"Not exactly in fighting form, you know, Potter." He coughed. "'Sides, it would have been worse if I'd done anything. People don't seem to like it when their quest for righteousness gets interrupted."

"Well," said Ron, standing up. "I'm going to go see if McGonagall is still up, set up that meeting for tomorrow. You want to come, Malfoy?"

"Mm… No thanks, Weasley. Not sure if I'm up to walking quite yet – don't want to push it and all that." He shifted further into his chair and shut his eyes, appearing for all intents and purposes to be taking a nap. "Thank you, though."

"Ron, I'll come with you," Harry stood up too. "I want to know what's going on." Ron simply nodded, but cast a questioning eye on Hermione.

"I think I'll just stay here. Get some reading in." Ron nodded and left the common room, Harry following close behind. She glanced over at Malfoy, whose eyes were still closed. He suddenly lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, calling out "tobs". Whatever that meant.

A moment later, a house elf appeared with a crack. He twisted his tea towel nervously in his hands when he caught sight of the blond.

"Mister Draco! What has you been doing, sir? Don't move, sir, Tobs will be right back. I is knowing just what you need!"

"Can you get something hot instead of an icepack for the knee, Tobs?"

"It is being just what Tobs was thinking, sir!" And with a crack, the elf disappeared again. Malfoy let out a rusty chuckle and settled back into his chair. Hermione continued to stare at him. "What, Granger?"

"Nothing."

"Okay." There was silence except for the crackling of the fire. "Have you done the Potions assignment yet?"

"No, I was going to work on it over the weekend."

"Oh… would you like to work on it together, by any chance?"

"Well, erm… okay. Yeah." Hermione cringed a little at what she had agreed to. The two of them got along fine in Potions class, and had worked together occasionally, but this was different. Maybe there was something about seeing him vulnerable that made Hermione more willing to spend time with him.

The house elf reappeared with another crack, this time laden with ice packs, what looked like an extremely lumpy blanket, and a glass of milk. Malfoy hissed as the elf arranged the ice around his chest, but made no more noise than a small "thank you" when the elf had finished wrapping his knee with the blanket.

"Is there anything else Mister Malfoy is needing? I is able to find potions if sir is needing them."

"No, thank you, Tobs. Have a good night." The elf nodded and popped out of sight. Hermione stared in shock, but quickly tried to return to her book. Her curiosity of how he had gotten in such a shape to begin with was eating at her, and she couldn't let it go.

"Malfoy…" she began hesitantly. "What happened?"

"Nothing much. I was just walking back up here, the idiots grabbed me, and away we went. Oh, hullo, Blaise." Hermione hadn't even noticed the other boy walk in, and gasped and whirled around.

"Draco, what the hell happened? I walk by Potter and Weasley talking about you getting attacked, and then I come up here and you're covered in blood and obviously in no shape to do anything!" Hermione had never seen Blaise so worked up. He usually seemed to grow tense and quiet in stressful situations, but now he was practically yelling at Malfoy. "What was this about? One minute I'm dropping you off in the dungeons, and the next you're here, looking like pulverized meat."

"Blaise, what do you _think_ this was about?" Hermione frowned, confused, until she saw Blaise's eyes dart to Malfoy's arm and then back to his face. Comprehension dawned on her, but she didn't feel the expected anger rise in her. Malfoy had gotten his punishment from the Ministry, and it was time to move forward. The darker boy let out a frustrated sigh.

"Alright. Let's get you cleaned up." And without further ado, Blaise summoned a cup of water and a towel. Wetting the cloth, he started wiping Malfoy's blood-caked face with it. The blond squirmed under the ministrations. "Stop _moving_. How old are you, five?"

"Don't let Pans see you like this, Blaise. She might get jealous – ow!" Malfoy's smirk disappeared as Blaise pressed particularly hard on his nose. Hermione smiled and turned back to her book. It was quite amusing to see the two of them together – they reminded her of an old married couple, or her grandfather and his buddies who had gotten together every week for the last twenty years to play poker.

The three of them sat in the common room for a while longer. Hermione stayed quiet and read her book, but listened to the conversation between Blaise and Malfoy with interest. They switched back and forth between bickering, schoolwork, talking about people Hermione didn't know, and more bickering. It quite reminded Hermione of Ron and Harry, and she was glad that there were similarities even between the most opposite Houses in the school.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed! There wasn't much action, but hopefully it gave Hermione a little more insight into our favorite Slytherins. Let me know what you think! **

**Snow day today (woot woot!) so I had some time to finish this up. Exams are coming up next week (meh…) so I probably won't be able to update. Then again, procrastination is practically my middle name, so you never know… : ) **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it! **

**Xoxo, GusGus**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything, etc, etc… **

Draco stared down at his feet as Headmistress McGonagall's nose flared, and he kept an expressionless face as she began her tirade against the boys whose primary source of entertainment over the year seemed to have been making mincemeat out of him. He had studiously avoided looking anywhere except at the Headmistress and the small cat statue she had placed on her desk.

"Mr. Malfoy, have you anything to say about this?" she turned her attention once more to him. She had sent the younger boys to the hall to wait until she decided what to do with them. He shifted uncomfortably under her sharp gaze.

"No, Professor. Well, I am a little concerned they've been going after the younger students." Weasley gave a small note of surprise. "Rookwood's daughter is in second year, and I know Rowle has a nephew in fourth year, but I don't know if many other people know that… Then, of course, there's the Greengrass girls. I don't think anyone would go after them, though. Theo hasn't mentioned anything, and I haven't noticed anything odd." He rattled this off in somewhat of a monotone – it was great and wonderful that Weasley had saved the day, but he could think of many other places he would rather be than the Headmistress' office, under the sharp gaze of Dumbledore and Snape's portraits.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall replied crisply, and called the delinquents back in. They shuffled in bashfully, and, noticing that the Headmistress had vanished their chairs, stood awkwardly in front of her desk, squished between Draco and Weasley.

"This behavior is inexcusable, as I'm sure you have already surmised," she addressed them sternly. "An additional forty house points will be taken from each of you. You will serve detention every night from seven until nine for the next three weeks, and every Friday and Saturday at the same time for the remainder of the school year." Their faces would have been comical, if Draco had any inclination to laugh, but the professor pressed on. "Your Hogsmeade privileges are revoked, and you will be removed from your Quidditch teams until further notice. I have had my fair share of fights and run-of-the-mill scuffles, but purposely attacking another student with intention to do serious harm is absolutely despicable. Your parents should be receiving letters within the day." She gave them another cold look. "You are dismissed."

They hastily fled the office, and McGonagall sighed and seemed to droop a little, sinking into her chair and cleaning her glasses wearily. She glanced up to see the two eighth years looking at her. Shaking her head, she started to speak.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am terribly sorry about this. Had I known…" she paused, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. "Despite Severus' insistence that there would be violence, I had hoped my House would be better than this…" She looked so old and tired that Draco felt a small stirring of pity and guilt rise in his chest.

"Professor, it had nothing to do with you. And, thank you," he said, "for… for being fair." She gave him a small smile – the first such he had seen directed at him since, well, _ever_. "If that's all, then?" he asked somewhat pointedly, hoping he could get out of the watchful eyes of both Dumbledore and his godfather's portraits.

"Yes. And Mr. Malfoy, please don't hesitate to come to me should this ever happen again." He nodded in agreement and walked with Weasley towards the office door. The redhead descended the stairs first, but kept pace with Draco's halting progress down the steps. He paused at the bottom of the stairwell, and turned to Draco.

"Will you be okay, Malfoy?" he asked seriously, blue eyes boring into Draco's grey ones. Draco thought again of how mature Weasley had gotten over the years. If only it had been like this when he was younger… "Malfoy?" Draco jolted back to reality.

"Yes, Weasley, thank you." He tried to move forward, but Weasley didn't budge.

"Now, listen here," the ginger began sternly. "We've never been friends, but something seems to have happened to you to make you halfway decent. I may not _like_ you, but I reckon we might as well put everything behind us."

"This sounds familiar," Draco mused. "Did I have a dream about this?"

"I might have mentioned something about it last night, but you might have been too delirious for it to sink in."

"Ah," Draco replied, satisfied. "Well, in that case, I accept." He stuck his hand out, and Weasley took it. The redhead nodded, then turned and walked into the hallway. He waved to Draco, who was ambushed by Blaise, Pansy and Astoria, who had been waiting for him in the hall. They looked at him anxiously, and he motioned for them to walk with him.

"They essentially got detentions for the rest of their lives, Quidditch is done for them, and so is Hogsmeade." He shrugged, and continued walking.

"That's it?" exclaimed Pansy, somewhat indignantly. Blaise put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she subsided. Astoria looked up at him with wide eyes.

"How are you doing?" she asked, looking concerned. "Blaise told me what happened this morning."

"I'm fine. It takes more than that to bring down a Malfoy." Now that he was out of the Headmistress's office, and finished with the unpleasantness, he was feeling almost jovial. "Now, who's in the mood for some lunch?"

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, for a Tuesday. After lunch, Draco managed to gain Professor Sprout's approval by successfully transplanting a particularly tricky leaping toadstool. Then came Potions, where he was able to ignore Granger's concerned looks – apparently Weasley had filled her in on what had happened in McGonagall's office – because they were once more in a potion-making competition. He won – they stood at about 50-50 score-wise. The night melted away in a blur of homework and chatting with Pansy and Theo.

Wednesday and Thursday passed much the same way. There was nothing particularly exciting to catch Draco's attention until his evening session with Astoria, and so he passed the days pleasantly enough. His steps felt lighter as he walked through the halls – there was very little threat of being grabbed and beaten now that McGonagall had spoken with the miscreants. He even hummed a little as he made his way to the library.

Astoria was already there, waiting for him. She looked up when he entered, and he nodded in greeting. She had already opened her potions textbooks and had out a quill and parchment.

"How did your test go?" Draco asked, sinking into the seat next to her.

"Draco, I'm sorry," she rushed out, ignoring his question. His eyes narrowed in confusion, and he tilted his head to the side. "If you hadn't been tutoring me the other night, you wouldn't have been out so late, and then you wouldn't have gotten hurt. I'm sorry…" Draco put his hand on top of her clenched fist, which she had laid on the table, and gave her a gentle smile.

"Astoria, listen. It's not your fault. They would have come for me a different time, or a different night. No, _listen_," he repeated, when she shook her head. "Thanks to your ungodly prefects rounds, all of that is over. So, really, I should be thanking you." She shook her head again, but some of the worry had drained out of her green eyes.

"My rounds aren't so bad," was all she said as an answer. He chuckled at how Slytherin it was of her, but was glad to see she wasn't worried anymore.

"Anyway, your test?"

Two hours later, Draco and Astoria stood in the door of the library, saying their goodnights. Their lesson had gone smoothly – Draco wasn't sure how much longer she would need tutoring, and he knew he would miss spending time with her. Apparently Astoria was thinking along those lines as well, because she paused and looked up at him.

"Do you suppose… Would you like to meet up, sometime? Outside of tutoring?" She sounded hesitant, and tucked a stray lock of blonde hair nervously behind her ear. Draco felt a grin stretch across his face.

"That would be fun. Hogsmeade visit in a couple of weeks, yeah?" Astoria nodded, and turned to fiddle with the strap of her schoolbag.

"Well, good night then, Draco."

"Yeah – see you later." They parted, and Draco made his way to the eighth-year dormitory feeling lighter than he had in days.

"What's with your face?" asked Blaise when he walked into the common room. He and Pansy were settled onto a couch, and Pansy was leaning into his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

"What about my face?"

"It's… happy. Looking-ish," answered Pansy, haltingly. "Why, Merlin, is that a _smile_?" She and Blaise looked at each other and began to chuckle.

"I didn't know Potions tutoring could have that effect on a person." The two of them were most definitely amused at his situation.

"Yes, well… Good night, then." And ignoring them, he made his way to the dorm and settled into the first night all week not punctuated by restless dreams and dark thoughts.

**A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed. Sorry it was so long in the making… We had exams last week, so I hope you can excuse me. **

** Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (or any chapter)! Let me know if there are any comments, criticisms, concerns regarding this chapter (aka: review!). **

** Xoxo, GusGus**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything, etc, etc.

Also, really sorry about the long, loooong wait. School sucks, and that's all there is to it. Hopefully, there won't be this long of a wait until the next update, but we shall see.

-o-O-o-

Hogsmeade in February was beautiful, but cold. Thankfully for Ron and Hermione's reluctance to engage in any blatant public displays of affection, Hogsmeade weekend had not fallen on Valentine's Day. Thus, Madame Puddifoot's was a perfectly decent and, more importantly, warm haven from the icy wind. It seemed that Harry's ill-begotten date with Cho here had been an anomaly, as the two settled down with a pot of coffee between them with no uneasy feelings.

As they finished the last of their coffee, Ron shot a scowl at the weather outdoors. It looked like it was going to snow any minute, steely clouds gathering above the quaint shops and houses. Still, they couldn't go back to Hogwarts yet. George had caught wind of the school outing, and came to check up on the WWW shop in the village, hoping that his siblings still in school would come out to visit him.

"C'mon, Ron," Hermione said encouragingly, not liking the pensive frown on Ron's face. "We'll make it a quick visit, and be back to school before the really bad stuff starts."

"Are you sure, Hermione? I don't want you to have to walk outside if it's snowing – you might slip or something."

"So could you, Ron." His protectiveness was sweet, but sometimes Hermione got a little tired of it. She was a perfectly capable witch, and Merlin knew she could probably handle herself better than he could. Still, it was endearing, and Hermione did nothing to act on the vague itch. "If it gets that bad, we can Floo back. I'm sure McGonagall will open up her office for snowbound students."

"Yeah, alright. You ready to go?"

"I just need to get my coat."

"Right." There was a bit of fumbling as they located their jackets and made their way to the door. Hermione sucked in the clean, cold air as a blast of wind hit them from the side. She grinned up at Ron, who looked down at her and shook his head in bemusement.

"Come on, then," she nearly shouted to be heard above the wind. "I haven't seen George in forever."

"You saw him just a month ago!"

"Yes, well…" she stuck her tongue out at him, and he smiled. How Hermione loved his smile, the way his eyes crinkled up and one end went higher than the other. He didn't have dimples, but there was something so charming and boyish that Hermione always felt herself smile when she saw him with a grin on his face.

George's shop was crowded, but not particularly busy. Students holding bags with bright purple WWW's on the sides crowded around the front window, looking at the sky. Every few minutes, a small group would leave the warmth of the shop and dare the wind to struggle back up to Hogwarts. Hermione hoped the rest of them left soon, or else they would get caught in something worse than a little cold air.

They saw Lee Jordan behind the counter, carefully counting out change for a younger girl. He handed the coins to her with a wink and a nod, before looking up to see Ron and Hermione. His grin flashed brilliantly over his dark face, and he motioned them over with a wave of his hand.

"How are you two? Long time, no see and all that," he said, shaking Ron's hand and pulling Hermione into a quick hug. "What's new with you lot, up on the hill?"

"Same old, same old," Ron chuckled.

"Quite a bit quieter without you, though, Lee. Peeves doesn't have quite the same… _oomph_," Hermione butted in.

"Well, that's too bad. There will someone coming in with the new crowd though. They just need to find their inner poltergeist." Lee continued to grin down at them while they chatted. They hadn't seen him since the summer – he rotated between the three WWW shops, making sure that everything was running smoothly. He was in the middle of telling them a story of some of George's less successful experiments when Hermione felt herself being swept up by a pair of arms.

"Ahh! _Stop_, George," she shrieked with laughter. "Put me _down_!"

"Whatever the sweet lady wishes," the remaining Weasley twin said with a grin, depositing her safely on the floor. "Ronald, nice to see you."

"Same here, though I don't appreciate you trying to kidnap my girlfriend from under my nose," Ron said, with a mock-scowl.

"Hermione, you wound me!" George cried, putting a hand to his heart. "What happened to our vows of undying love?"

"Alas," Hermione tried to say with a straight face, going along with the boy's play. "I was weak… Forgive me, my sweet!"

"I cannot! This betrayal has sore hurt me – I doubt I shall recover. I shall renounce love forever, and wander the lands, alone and uncaring." The four of them could take it no longer, and dissolved into peals of laughter. Hermione was only distantly aware of the younger students staring at them in curiosity and awe, so caught up was she in the laughter and general merriment.

"Now, I know you two will probably want to head back soon, judging by the state of affairs outside. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, we're alright. Thank you, George," Hermione replied before Ron could get a chance to empty out the store. "But we can stay a bit longer – I haven't seen you in a while."

They ended up staying for an hour longer, and by the time they left, there was no one else in the shop. They ended up being showered in sweets as George and Lee waved them off, and Hermione waved right back. They were the only two on the path up to Hogwarts, with the exception of a pair up ahead of them. Hermione didn't recognize them until the boy turned his head to laugh at something the girl said, and then she saw the aristocratic profile. The smile looked odd on his face, which Hermione thought was rather sad, and she turned to look at Ron. Even now, in the freezing wind, he had a slight grin, which widened as he turned to look at her.

"What?"

"Mmmn. Nothing. Just," she looked at him again. "Don't stop smiling, okay?"

"What brought this on?" She nodded to the pair ahead of them, and his grin tightened a bit when he recognized the blond head.

"Oh…" And Hermione could tell that he understood, like he had just started always doing. "Well, he didn't really have a reason to smile, not really. And I… I have you." She didn't know what to say to that, so she went up on her tip-toes and gave him a peck on the lips. He reddened slightly, but bent down to return the favor. After a few minutes, he disentangled himself.

"As enjoyable as this, erm, is, do you suppose we could continue it inside?" She grinned and smacked his arm.

"Of course, you big, lovable teaspoon. Let's go." And with a grin, she led him back to the castle and up to the fire in their common room, and finished up a very enjoyable afternoon of talking, eating and, when Harry could avoid looking pained, snogging. Yes, a very enjoyable afternoon.

**A/N: **So, I hope you enjoyed! Once again, my deepest apologies for the long delay. Sadness… Also, I realize this chapter was the biggest piece of fluff ever, but whatevah. I'm a little out of practice, and winter has been going on _way_ too long. I needed a little happiness. Anyhoo, reviews are much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

xoxo, GusGus


End file.
